


Courted

by vivalaegghead



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dragon Age AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivalaegghead/pseuds/vivalaegghead
Summary: Zarina never understood the intrigues of Orlais, yet she found herself thrust into the staged play that is court life. She longed for the comfort the forest provided, yet she was soon to be married and her duty was to her people. She was resigned to the idea that all Orlesians were designed from the same blueprint until a hurricane of a person swept her up into his world filled with endless wisdom and brightly colored stories. Torn between her duty, her heart, and survival, Zarina tries to uncover the truth behind a scandal while trying to escape her own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bodies bleed into walls,  
> Faces blur into curtains.  
> Rooms upon rooms  
> Swell with the exhaustive breath of them.  
> I long for none besides  
> Your breath upon my neck.

Leaves still loyally hanging onto their green costumes found themselves being captured by autumn’s first brisk wind. The courtyard was slowly undressing itself for the new season, causing prickles to form on arms and red to flush cheeks of all those who came to admire the change. The shift in season seemed to inspire the flooded mass that had gathered within the stone-laid courtyard. Fingertips teased flower petals while smiles relaxed upon lips. Hands reached eagerly for other hands, or for the sweet pastries that sat upon large silver trays.

Zarina’s amber eyes flittered across the scene. Shifting seasons filled her with want, and she was never sure of how to process this feeling. The chilled wind comforted her, and filled her with smells of pine and earth, smells that she feared losing. The wind pushed her, challenged her, to run, to frolic, to play as she had done when she was younger. Wisps of curled copper hair tickled her nose, and she shoved them behind her pointed ear defiantly.

  
_I have a duty_. She silently chided her rebellious curls. Despite this, she couldn’t deny the twisted feeling that settled in her stomach like roots from a grand tree. This feeling flourished inside her, like branches with sprigs of new color. She could never deny the forest.

  
“Princess.”

The smooth voice dripped over her like honey, and an elegant hand held down the papers that were fluttering mercilessly against the wind. Zarina’s eyes flickered up the arm, adorned in a tight fitting sleeve of blue satin embossed with velvet swirls, to the serene face of her tutor. The sun filtered through the wooden awning above them, causing the blue in his eyes to pirouette with the sun light. The corner of his mouth twitched to reveal a smirk, breaking his mask of calm. A mass shifted around Zarina’s leg as a huge snout appeared from under the table. Black lips curled around large fangs, allowing puddles of saliva to drip on the red brick below. A deep throaty growl could be heard as silver eyes narrowed at the tall elf.

“ _Hamin, Elgar_!” The Dalish command passed between gritted teeth as Zarina pulled on the dense scruff of the large white wolf that protected her. Elgar’s haunches slowly receded and he shifted his weight under the table so he could rest his head on Zarina’s lap while keeping a wary eye on the professor. Zarina passed her hand over Elgar’s head, which consumed her whole lap, as she softly chided the wolf.

  
“You always have to cause a raucous, don’t you?” The wolf pulled his ears back as he looked pitifully up into his master’s face and let out a soft whine. Zarina clucked her tongue, something she used to do to show her younger siblings that she was displeased, yet amused.

  
The sound of shuffling papers broke Zarina’s attention, and her gaze fell back on her tutor. The tall slender elf seemed unaffected by the show of aggression from Elgar as he eyed the papers Zarina had been working on. His lips had a habit of forming a tight line when he was concentrating.

  
“To your liking, professor?” The words had a bite to them, and she couldn’t help but smirk as she rested a folded hand under her chin. Sharp eyes peered at her over the paper, hovering over her face. She felt his eyes jump from one freckle to another, and she wondered if he had ever counted how many freckles were dusted over her face during their study sessions.

  
“It seems as if you are understanding your teachings.” His words were spoken steadily, as if he were reading from a book.

  
Zarina snorted, her face crinkled as if she had just taken a bite from a sour berry. “Oh please, Solas, shemlen culture isn’t that difficult to grasp.”

  
It had been five years since Zarina had been shuffled from the comforts of the forest to the uptight castle of the shemlens. The humans and elvhen had made a pact, one that they had hoped would finally calm tensions between the two races. A high standing elvhen daughter would marry a human prince. The clans debated on whose daughter would be the second half of the whole. The elders decided that Zarina’s father, a well-respected leader who had guided the tribes with wisdom, would decide between his daughters. It was decided that Zarina’s oldest sister would be the one to unite the races, but she refused to relinquish herself to the desires of the humans. She shrugged off the duty, disappearing in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. Thus, the duty fell on Zarina’s shoulders. Before she could have the chance to run away, a brigand of human soldiers came in the middle of the night to gather her. With little more than a few soft spoken goodbyes, Zarina had come to reside in the palace since she was sixteen.

  
Zarina knew her time of freedom grew short. The following spring would bloom her twenty-first birthday, the proper age of marriage, and she would be resigned to the duties of a princess, and to the will of humans. Despite this, she allowed herself small moments of verbal rebellion, and many in the castle had grown to whisper of her questionable actions. Her mother had begun to write letters, begging her daughter to mind her tongue for the sake of her people. Zarina knew that marriage was inescapable, but she was pleased that an elf would have such a place of power within court, and gave her the advantage when it came to demanding rights for her people.

  
Although, a little sharp wit never hurt anybody.

  
“Must I remind you that even flowers have ears, Princess?” Solas towered over her, balancing himself on pointed fingertips over the table. His face was suspended in the air between them, close enough now to allow Zarina to notice the small divot in his chin and the faded freckles across his nose. The air stilled around them, and she could pick up the scent of pine needles and smoke radiating from his velvet coat. She shifted forward on her elbows, further closing the space between them.

  
“Do you insist on using my shemlen title, Solas?” Her voice had dropped to ensure that only they heard. A dash of red flittered across the professor’s cheeks, but he refused to break eye contact. The use of their native language was received with sour looks and murmurs concealed by hands. Despite the push for inclusion, minute things such as words whispered in Dalish were enough to send the court in a frenzy. The only exception of this rule was Zarina’s wolf, Elgar, who could only be controlled by her native language.

  
“ _Mirthadra elvhen_.” The words tumbled off Solas’ tongue so softly that Zarina could barely catch them. Yet, the words held such surety that Zarina answered with a smirk.

  
“There you are, my love.” The air between them was disturbed by the arrival of a group of royally clad humans. The professor and student retreated from each other, and Zarina’s body instinctually went rigid, hands folded delicately in her lap, now damp from Elgar’s drool. At the head of the entourage was a dark headed human with piercing blue eyes. His face seemed to be set permanently in a state of calm. His arms were pulled stoically behind his back, showcasing the muscles that existed beneath his white satin coat. Guards trailed the well to-do man, as well as a woman with the complexion of nutmeg. Her hair was slicked back in an intricate up do, and silk of gaudy colors adorned her body. She positioned herself next to the leader of the entourage, passing a look of concern between Zarina and Solas.

  
“Sebastian.” Zarina offered her cheek to the tall man, who gently laid a kiss on a small cluster of freckles.

  
“Where is your guard?” Sebastian passed weary eyes over the elven tutor who shared the space with his bride to be.

  
“I gave him the day off, darling. Surely I don’t need to be protected from my studies?” Zarina passed a smile between her fiancée and tutor.

  
“O-of course not, my dear.” Sebastian finally dipped his head in acknowledgement to Solas, who returned the gesture with a tilt of his chin. “I was just concerned, but I see that you have busied yourself with your studies.”

  
“Pardon me, your majesty.” The woman interrupted the cumbersome conversation with a clearing of her throat. “I must steal the Princess away to review a few letters she received today.”

“Of course Josephine, go on ahead and I will meet you in my chambers.” Josephine dropped into a small curtsy before departing the group. Zarina tried to conceal a sigh of relief, knowing that Josephine had just given her an out of an uncomfortable encounter.

  
“It seems as if you are needed elsewhere, Princess.” Solas offered a hand to the overwhelmed elf. She accepted, folding her fingers over the smooth skin of her tutor’s hand, as he helped her from her sitting position. She turned towards Sebastian and offered a deep bow, her silken gown folding around her feet.

  
“Shall I see you for dinner?” Sebastian’s hands remained piously behind his back. He always seemed to radiate a study personality, as if his overcoats were always too small for him.

  
“Of course, dear.” Endearments always felt foreign on Zarina’s tongue, and she let them fall clumsily out of her mouth. With a final bow from Solas, Zarina’s slippers softly padded away from the men, seeking the shelter of her room. She heard the quick rush of Elgar to her side as he brushed against her hip. She smiled down at the creature, concealing a small parchment of paper between her folded palms


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oceans upon oceans  
> Shadows cast by limber trees  
> Trees that only bend for you  
> Shall I bend, too?

The castle always seemed to swallow Zarina, as if she were a krill and the imposing building were a whale. Despite the measure of the castle, Zarina often felt claustrophobic. Her home had no ceilings, no walls to contain her. She was allowed to frolic and hunt with her siblings without the fear of scowls from stuffy nobles. The walls of the castle sagged with the weight of paintings and gold inlay. Murals depicting woods and lakes always seemed to taunt the elf, even though she insisted the paintings seemed duller than the real thing. Jewel encrusted portraits of deceased royals filled up the spaces between murals, eyeing Zarina disapprovingly.

_Someday I’ll be up there._ Zarina’s eyes doted on the picture of an elderly woman with a hooked nose. Donned in a grey taffeta gown and hair accessorized with large feathers, she seemed more of a bird than a human. _I’m sure that will cause an uproar, a painting of an elf next to these shems_. Zarina smirked at the painting, as if challenging the woman within the frame.  

“If it isn’t the princess herself.” The grating voice announced itself from the shadows of a long corridor. Two figures approached the elf, spreading out as if surrounding her for an attack.

“Countess Flemeth. Lady Morrigan.” Zarina challenged the pair with amber eyes. Elgar wrapped his body around his owner, joints rigid but ears alert. Morrigan pursed her lips at the burly mutt, meeting the wolf’s eyes. After a moment, Elgar retreated with head bowed and ears flattened. Zarina moved between the woman and her wolf.

“Is there something I can help you ladies with?” Morrigan’s gaze shifted to her mother, whose lips curled into a smirk.

“Of course not, my dear. We were just about to walk the grounds.” Flemeth clasped her aged hands together, Zarina noticed fingernails filed to resemble small knives.

            The mother and daughter duo were well respected sorceresses within Orlais. They had made it a habit to show up to events and palaces uninvited with the expectation of lavish gifts and influential company. Weeks after Zarina had arrived in Orlais, the pair had swooped upon the castle and have since made it their temporary residence. Zarina had heard the servant’s whisper that Flemeth was vying for Morrigan to take the throne, yet no discernable grasps for power had been made and the window of opportunity grew smaller with every passing day.  

“I see.” Zarina inspected the two with a distrustful glace. “The grounds are lovely this afternoon, I hope you two enjoy yourself.”

“I am sure that we will, Princess. We shan’t keep you any longer.” The women dropped down into a curtsey, which Zarina returned half-heartedly.

“Oh, and Princess?” Morrigan’s sweetened voice dripped through her ears like sickening honey. “It is unbecoming to fidget so.” The sorceresses gaze narrowed at Zarina’s hands, who had been unaware that she had been fumbling Solas’ note between her palms. Zarina snapped her palms together protectively, red began painting her cheeks, competing with her freckles over the sacred land.

“ _Garas_ ¸Elgar.” Zarina hissed through clenched teeth. She shuffled past the women, feeling their smirks on her back. The white wolf matched her quickened pace, tail low with unease.

            Zarina berated herself while mounting the stairwell to her room. _How could I be so thoughtless? How dare that shem be so bold_. Zarina began furiously wringing the note as her footsteps echoed off the white-washed marble. The staircase came to an end as a large wooden door with intricate carvings announced that she had arrived at her room. Elgar rushed towards the door and pressed his nose along the opening at the bottom, tail wagging furiously. Zarina reached for the golden knob, twisted it, and let Elgar clamor through the crack before allowing herself to enter.

            Zarina’s room expanded before her in a sea of neutral colors and long wavering curtains. Sebastian had given his fiancée the freedom to decorate her quarters as she chose. Zarina didn’t know much about decorating, but she knew that she wanted to feel as close to nature as she possibly could within the stuffy castle. Windows erupted from the floor and expanded into beautiful archways adorned with long flowy curtains. The reflective marble floor had been replaced with planks of wood that still smelled of the giant tree it was harvest from. Zarina reached out to touch the expanse of painted branches that covered her walls. She mimicked the brush strokes with her fingertips. Solas had been in her room for a week, dutifully painting her walls while Zarina quietly memorized his techniques. Elgar’s claws clicked on the wooden floor as he sprinted towards a couch shoved in the corner of the room. The great animal launched himself into the air and landed upon the green couch with an _oof_ and murmurs of disapproval.

“You silly mutt, get off of me.” Complaints were suffocated by the large wolf lapping at the face of an elven maid. Zarina laughed a wholesome laugh, one that showed all her teeth, and she quickly whistled the animal to her side. Elgar reluctantly obeyed her command, but not without sneaking a few more licks on the handmaid’s face.

“What a slobbery, mangy...”

“Oh hush, Merrill, you adore him.” Zarina had crouched to the wolf’s level, ruffling his neck as his long pink tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Merrill wiped away the slobber with her sleeves, a picture of disgust painted on her petite face. Upon seeing the wolf content, tongue out, laughter began bubbling out of her.

“I guess he isn’t so bad.” She walked over and laid a few quick pats on the animal’s large head. “But he doesn’t know personal space.” She waved a finger in the wolf’s face, as if meaning to scold him.

            Zarina rose and made her way to one of the windows, leaning against the frame as she scoured the grounds. “How has your day been, m’lady?” Merrill’s chipper voice rode the soft wind that fluttered around her room. Merrill had been Zarina’s dearest friend growing up. Zarina’s rambunctiousness was only challenged by her friends, an outcome which proved to lead them into interesting situations. On one such occasion, Merrill had been practicing a new fire spell she had learned. Teasing from Zarina caused her friend to accidentally lose control of the flame within her hands. The flames erupted and burned off Zarina’s eyebrows, much to the shock and ultimate amusement of Merrill. The hair never quite grew back the same, leading Zarina to continuously shave her eyebrows off whenever a wayward sprig of hair emerged. The freckled elf touched her smooth brow in remembrance, a soft smile danced upon her lips.

“Really Merrill, must you also insist on using shem titles while addressing me?”

            When Zarina’s mother received letters that her daughter refused to eat or leave her room, she sent along a concerned letter, delivered by none other than Merrill. Merrill was appointed Zarina’s handmaiden, and after a few misspoken words of the new “servant”, Zarina ensured that Merrill would not be treated like a lowly elven maid. She ordered fine silken dresses with matching slippers for her friend, and insisted that Merrill attend every dinner or meeting with her to act as a voice of council.

“What do you mean ‘must I _also_ ’, who else have you chided with your nonsense today?”

            Zarina turned to face her friend, which eyed her suspiciously. She clasped her hands behind her back, clutching the letter. “Why, that is none of your concern, dear friend.” A smirk erupted over Merrill’s lips as she began charging at her friend.

“What is that behind your back?”

“It’s nothing!”

            Zarina took off in a sprint, hopping from overstuffed chair to overstuffed chair. Merrill was quick to follow her friend as she grabbled for Zarina’s clenched fist. The girls fell onto the couch in a fit of giggles and prying hands. Elgar bounces around the pair, adding his resounding barks to the tussle.

“Ah-ha!” Merrill held up the crumpled letter victoriously, and rushed off to avoid being overtaken by Zarina once more. Fingers shaking from exertion unraveled the note, as Merrill began to breathlessly read the letter.

“Oceans upon oceans, shadows cast by limber trees” Zarina reached for the letter, which was quickly snatched out of her grasps once more.

“Trees that only bend for you.” Merrill’s voice expanded with a dramatic flair, causing Zarina’s face to flush red with embarrassment.

“Merrill, give that back!” The warning was issued in a hurried whisper.

“Shall I bend, too?” Merrill fell back upon a chair, hand over her brow as if she had swooned.

“Merrill!” Zarina was able to snatch the letter from her friend’s grasp, she leveled herself with her friend, challenging her with her eyes. “I said stop.”

            Merrill shuffled out of the seat with a mischievous grin. “Oh don’t be embarrassed, that is marvelously romantic.” Zarina made her way over to her bed and shuffled a few planks underneath the bed railing. A wooden box engraved with vines emerged from the space, and with the slip of the lid she revealed her stash of letters. “I’m _engaged_ , remember? No one can find out about these.” After adding the crumpled letter to the box, she shifted the planks once more until they blended seamlessly with the floor once again.

“It’s all silly, isn’t it? Shemlen culture.” Merrill sighed, viewing her friend with a chin upon her hand.

            Zarina made her way back to the window once again, anxiously twirling her rust colored hair between her fingers. “Of course it is. But this is what must be done.” A tall silhouette passed across the garden path, en route to the large tower that stood erect on the outskirts of the property. Hands clasped behind his back, Solas’ stride was slow and mindful.

“Perhaps, in another world.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as Solas stopped to stroke the petals of a blushing flower. Zarina brushed her fingertips across her lips, wondering how it would feel if the fingertips belonged to Solas. She broke her gaze to sweep the garden once more, and noticed that two figures were missing from the bustle of the grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garas: Come


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every night the moon and lake dance,  
> I watch as the lovers move with each other  
> Unsure of where one ends and the other begins.  
> I wish for a day where you and I do the same.

The setting sun ushered in a cool breeze, the scent of autumn rode on the back of withered leaves as they dizzied themselves upon the wooden floor. Merrill shuffled the leaves out of the room with a dainty foot, latching the windows in their absence. Zarina reclined on a couch, tracing inconsistent patterns in the fabric with a stray fingertip. Elgar laid behind her, snorting viciously in his sleep, paw twitching every so often.

“You should be getting ready for dinner.” Merrill chided at her friend, working on folding a pile of clothing.

Zarina’s head fell forward onto the arm of the couch, auburn hair engulfing her face. “Must I go?” Despite the length of her stay, Zarina always dreaded dinners. The formality of them left Zarina exasperated and overwhelmed. Talk would often include required pleasantries, followed by heated political discussions fueled by alcohol. Zarina found shem food to be heavy and over seasoned, and it often settled unpleasantly in her gut, leaving her sluggish for the rest of the night. Then there was Sebastian, and the looks he would cast at her over the crowded room. Eyes soft with a blossoming love that wasn’t reciprocated, an infectiously kind smile...

  _Knock knock knock_.

Three sharp rasps echoed from the door. Merrill made her way to answer the knocks, but before she could reach the handle the heavy wooden door swung upon with grandeur. “My my, have you looked _this_ distressed all day?” The silky voice preceded a man draped in a purple velvet coat that dragged on the marble behind him. Golden-laid jewelry lined his ears and slithered around his neck, barely leaving any skin visible. The human absentmindedly twirled at his dark moustache, twisting the ends together until they stayed interwoven.

“Oh Dorian, I was wondering if you were going to make me wear these rags to dinner,” Zarina dismissively splayed her dress across the couch, her mouth wrenched downward with distaste. Dorian waltz into the room, balancing an overstuffed bag over his shoulder. He heaved the bag onto the floor with a sigh, glanced at himself in the mirror, and readjusted his coat.

“M’lady, I always make you look ravishing.” He tilted his head towards the elf, a dapper smile washed across his face.

Dorian was a renowned stylist in Orlais, designing for lords and ladies, and once for Queen Celene herself. He went toe to toe with the best and the worst that Orlais had to offer, and earned himself an interesting reputation along the way. When Zarina was taken to Orlais for the first time, not shortly after arriving at the castle, Dorian noticed the fire that she kindled behind her timid eyes. After hearing some of the distasteful things the nobles whispered of the new elf, he decided to take the youngling under his wing. Since then, he had pledged his service, and friendship, to Zarina.

A hand with elegant fingers swallowed by gaudy rings extended toward the she-elf. Zarina accepted, pulling herself up from the couch and positioned herself in front of the mirror. Merrill quickly began fumbling at the ribbons that constrained Zarina, who found herself able to take deep breaths again. Preparing for dinner was an exhaustive process that demanded the utmost attention to detail to both clothing and hair. Everyone in the castle attended dinner. Those who inhabited the castle used it as a way to talk to other workers they hadn’t seen, or to mingle with the high standing guests who stayed from time to time. Whatever the intention, intriguing food was made and wine was shared along with laughs and gossip.

“There.” Merrill sighed with finality. The fabric scratched at Zarina’s skin as it slid off her body, she looked at the gathered fabric on the floor with disgust. The cool evening breeze nipped at her skin, teasing bumps along her arms and legs, she wrapped her freckled arms around her body in a feeble attempt to fend off the invader. In the mirror her frame stood stark against her surroundings. Freckles covered every inch of her body like a dusting of cinnamon, a sharp contrast to her fair skin. A small chest and slender waist expanded to fuller hips and muscular thighs.

“Something that continually strikes me is the lack of modesty you elves possess.” Dorian chuckled, back turned toward Zarina. The elf cupped her chest in response, a defiant tongue stuck out from between full lips. Modesty had no means within Dalish culture. Nakedness was thought of as an acceptance of nature, although clothing was often expected to be worn when in the presence of the clan.

“Nothing compares to frolicking naked in the moonlight, right Zarina?” Merrill teased, peering out the window to the forming moon.

“With nothing to cover us but our hair.” Zarina affirmed her friend’s statement while brushing a wayward lock of flaming hair from tickling her collarbone.

“You heathens.” Dorian turned to face the elves with a dress strung between his decorated hands. The ball gown sagged from the weight of jewels and lace, reams of tulle were stuffed under the skirt in a possible attempt to drown the person that dared to wear it.

“Dorian…” Before Zarina could continue she was silenced with a cluck of the tongue.

“No questions, just try it on.” He gathered the dress on the floor, helped Zarina step into the mound of fabric, and began easing the dress over her body. The dress drifted over every curve of Zarina’s body, clinging to her like a second skin. Dorian began meticulously buttoning the back, pulling the high lace collar into place. The taffeta glowed with a deep purple color, and small rubies were clustered about her chest and distributed through the length of the gown. Whichever way she turned, the jewels caught the light.

“Wow.” She breathed, running her fingers over the luxurious fabric. The high lace collar rested just inches from her rounded jawline, making her feel regal. Dorian pulled a chair and offered it to Zarina, she shifted her dress around herself in an attempt to sit comfortably.

“Merrill, would you kindly see to her hair.” While her friend twisted and tamed her locks, Dorian was maneuvering around the seated elf, adding jewelry to her ears and fingers wherever he saw fit. When Merrill finished weaving her hair and Dorian was content with the accessories, both stood back and took in the sight. Dorian with a hand arched thoughtfully under his chin and Merrill with hands anxiously twisting at the fabric of her dress.

“Just as I imagined.” Dorian breathed with finality.

“What?” Zarina eyed the pair distrustfully, to which Dorian responded with the passing of a gilded mirror.

“You look ravishing.”

            Merrill had twisted her hair up in braids, securing them on top of her head in an elegant fashion. Ruby studs and golden hoops adorned Zarina’s ears, and she reached up to fiddle with the new found weight. Despite Zarina’s distaste for shemlen culture and the formality of dinners, she did enjoy the ensembles Dorian prepared for her.

“Wow, Dorian…Merrill.” The words came out breathlessly. Dorian silenced her with a hand, which he then used to hoist her to her feet.

“Tut, tut. I am simply doing my job, your majesty.” A smirk formed under his polished mustache. “It seems as if you are fashionably late, my dear.”

“Are we all ready?” Merrill had quickly shrugged on a sliming blue dress with long sleeves and Dorian wrapped his cape around his shoulders.

“Yes, yes. Now the question is, how are we going to get you through that door?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In dreams I wander.  
> Ethereal visions shift before me,  
> Offering, promising, pleading.  
> Yet no other spirit is more enchanting  
> Than you.

Chatter erupted in a low roar from the bottom of the stairs, candle light danced off the gold encrusted walls. Zarina wove her arm through Dorian’s for support, her free hand anxiously tugging at the boning of her bodice. The trio stopped at the top of the stairs and Merrill began fanning out the train of Zarina’s skirt and making sure all the rubies were in place. Dorian turned towards her and smoothed stray wisps of hair, tenderly rubbing her earlobe once he was satisfied.

“Are you ready, Princess?” The short form of the court marshal appeared, tapping his jewel encrusted cane restlessly. Dorian clasped the elf’s hands in his and searched her eyes. A smile softened across his lips under his manicured mustache, offering a small sense of comfort.

“I know you don’t like court parties but…” His fingers moved to straighten her bodice. “Knock them dead.”

“You look beautiful, my friend.” Merrill’s gentle voice floated behind from behind them, causing Zarina to reach out caress her friend’s hands.

“You as well, Merrill.”

“Stick it to the shems.” Her friend whispered quietly, passing a mischievous wink between them.

“I’m ready.” Zarina announced to the court marshal, who instantly snapped into position and called for the attention of the room with three sharp rasps of his cane on the marble floor.

“Princess Zarina, accompanied by her dress maker Dorian Pavus and her handmaiden Merrill.” Despite the small stature of the man, his voice boomed through the dining room. All in attendance turned to face the formally dressed elf, and Zarina felt her breath catch in her lungs. There were more people present than usual, perhaps the nearing of the wedding drew the attention of nobles who sought to speak of agreements and perhaps chance a look at the soon to be elven queen.

Zarina became suddenly aware of her movements and breathing, hands folded in front of her instinctually. Each step she made down the marbled staircase echoed throughout the room, the weight of her dress pressing against her hips caused her movements to seem strained. She looked out into the faces of the nobles and castle workers, most with drinks in hand and eyes dissecting her every movement. She felt like a rare animal, newly discovered, being presented to the masses for the first time. Her golden eyes moved from person to person, then settled on a slender figure in the back perched against the wall. Her tutor’s lips were clasped around a chalice but his blue eyes refused to waver from her gaze. Heat began to sweep across her cheeks and she forced herself to look away. Two brawny figures stood at the bottom of the stairs, one she recognized as her betrothed, the second her guard. She extended her hand upon reaching the final step and clasped it around Sebastian’s, whose lips lowered to kiss her knuckles.

“You look beautiful, my love.” He murmured low enough so that only they could hear. His gloved hand reached behind her back, settling on the curve of her hip as he lifted his brimming glass with the other.

“Honored guests,” His silky voice rolled over the gathered crowd. “We are delighted to host you this evening. Please make yourselves at home, we have plenty of food and spirits for all.” All raised their glasses in answer, then proceeded to converse in low murmurs. Sebastian pulled Zarina to face him, blue eyes piercing through her golden ones like a notched arrow. His smooth features wrinkled under the weight of his smile, brought about by his eyes wandering the elf.

_Am I shem enough for you?_ The thought flicked its serpentine tongue at the base of her consciousness. A small feeling of guilt trickled through her heart as the thought settled in. She knew he meant well, and neither of them asked for this fate. Sebastian was kind and accommodating, and Zarina or her people would never have to worry about food or shelter once their marriage was legal. These light thoughts flittered around her brain, yet her heart still weighed heavy. Zarina was abruptly shook from her thoughts when she saw Sebastian begin to lean in, lips pursed together in a feeble offering. A quick turn of her head left Sebastian’s lips planted on the freckles of her cheek, the heat- from the kiss or from the shared embarrassment, she was unsure- swelled over her face as if a dam had buckled under the weight of the moment.

“I uh-“ Zarina cleared her throat. “I apologize.” Her eyes searched the face of her betrothed, who chuckled softly.

“Do not fret, my dear. I know you want to save our first kiss until our marriage day. That was selfish of me.” Sebastian clasped her hands once more. “Andraste has blessed me with such a pious wife.”

_Oh gods_. Zarina began looking around in an attempt to escape the situation.

“Ah, I have found your guard, my love. I would like for him to accompany you tonight while you mingle. It seems as if royal duty beckons for me once again, so I am unsure of how long I will be able to share in the festivities.” Sebastian pivoted to reveal Zarina’s guard, who seemed just as embarrassed about the situation as Zarina did.

“Princess.” Alistair bent at the waist in a deep bow. His golden locks had been smoothed back, revealing a tanned face and kind eyes. His breastplate hung heavily, bearing the crest of the palace: a large faceless sun with streaming tendrils.

“Alistair. I presume you enjoyed your day off?”

“Yes, yes I’m sure he did, my love. Please do not dismiss him tonight, it worries me when no one is looking after you.” Sebastian curved his fingers around Zarina’s chin, casting a worried look over her face.

“Of course, my lord. I will accompany her for the night.” Alistair’s voice broke Sebastian’s grasp.

“Very well. Enjoy your night, my dear.” With a final kiss on her cheek, Sebastian turned on his heel, met two figures in the doorway, and then disappeared down the hall. The feeling returned to Zarina’s fingertips, she hadn’t realized it but she had been holding her breath. Her stomach began to settle from the feeling of discomfort, but she still anxiously wrung her hands.

“You couldn’t have given me a warning? A simple ‘Hey Alistair, this night is going to start off really awkward!’ No?” Zarina turned to her guard with amusement.

“I gave you the morning off so you could be well rested for this.” A smile finally cracked her mask of anxiety. She turned toward the gathered crowd, searching for a pair of eyes that seemed to have disappeared into the wallpaper. After her searched turned up nothing, her eyes found a dark mustached man sauntering towards with two glasses in tow. Dorian moved to her side and pushed the glass into her hand, the way he swayed told Zarina that he had already downed a few drinks.

“Enjoying yourself?” She smirked into the cup of red liquid, it danced over her taste buds in a waltz that left her whirling.

“Why, yes. You should be enjoying yourself after that embarrassing encounter.” He followed the jab with a deep swig of the wine.

“You saw it, too?” Alistair peered sideways at the mage, hand drumming on the hilt of his sword.

“Who didn’t?” Laughter bubbled from the mage, no doubt encouraged by the bubbles that swirled in his drink. Zarina shook her head as a means to brush off the embarrassment, she swirled the red liquid in her glass restlessly. The room swelled with people dressed in jewel toned fabrics weighted down by heavy jewelry. Gossip hung in the air heavy, like a summer day after a downpour of rain. A small band was stuck in the corner, playing gentle music that could barely be heard over the gathered nobles who refused to acknowledge their presence.

_I wish they would dance_. Zarina sighed. Her clan often played music to please Sylaise, god of the arts. Every night her father would play the flute in an attempt to lull all of his children to sleep, but the catchy music would always inspire the children to dance and frolic with each other, forgetting its intended purpose.

Her father’s aged instrument made of iron bark had been passed down through generations, each new heir would carve their mark into the flute below their successors, and her father had managed to whittle a small wolf’s head into the wood. This mark seemed fitting since her father referred to his family as a ‘pack’, they all hunted and feasted together, and would be willing to die for each other. She had often dreamed of her father passing the flute to her, thus naming her successor to the clan. What would she carve into the wood, she would often ask herself. Now, those thoughts felt as if they were fairytales from a far off land. Despite this, dancing always took her back home.

“Princess.” A sweet voice rang from behind the elf and her entourage. Josephine had appeared adorned in sleek silken dress that bared her shoulders. Heavy golden earrings hung from her ear, swaying with every movement of her head.

“Lady Josephine.” A dip of her head acknowledged her confidants presence. The Antivan moved to her side and together they eyed the crowd.

“How are you enjoying the party, my lady?”

“A party is but a party.” Zarina sighed at length.

“Ah, but there is where you are wrong, my princess. We are expecting some well-respected guests tonight.” Josephine revealed a letter with a broken seal from her billowing sleeve. The off white parchment showcased red wax pressed with a large bird. Unfurling the letter revealed messy script, as if the letter were pinned in haste.

_My dear Princess to be,_

_Apologies are in order for such short notice but my family and I will be attending your dinner tonight. I have some personal business to address with my old friend, your fiancée. I look forward to meeting you and enjoying myself at your lovely gathering._

_Garrett Hawke_

“Hawke?” Zarina inquired upon finishing the letter.

“Yes, the family is very influential in Kirkwall. Garrett, the oldest, is well known for…his lack of subtly.” Josephine responded without taking her eyes from the crowd.

“Hawke said he knows Sebastian, but I’ve never heard Sebastian talk of him.”

“Yes, well many people _know_ Hawke, but few want to acknowledge that.”

            A loud slam could be heard from the front of the castle followed by shouts of disapproval from the guards. Alistair stepped in front of Zarina, sword half-way removed from its sheath. Footsteps revealed a group of three individuals, the other two lead by a ragged looking man with dark tousled hair and an unkempt beard. A similar fell to his right, a dark-haired man yet cleaner cut than the leader. Finally, a slender feminine figure fell to the leaders left. Black hair fell around her shoulders and rosy cheeks framed her pale face.

“Princess!” The leader called out over the shocked crowed.

“Announce yourself!” Alistair barked back, body rigid from adrenaline.

“Oh yes, how silly of me. Your majesty, Garrett Hawke at your service.” The man dipped into a deep bow, muscles flashed from under his armor.

“Maker, what a man.” Dorian’s words swirled around Zarina’s ear in a drunken tizzy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How shall I live for you?  
> Shall I take colors from my murals  
> To paint your world more beautiful?  
> Shall I take breath from my lungs  
> So you don’t sacrifice yours?

Time seemed to stand still despite the sudden change of events in the evening. The dark and handsome human who had interrupted the party stood in the middle of a parted crowd, the lights from the chandeliers reflected in his armor, swaying along in a mesmerizing dance. The two that followed the rugged man exchanged whispers with each other, the man shuffled his feet uneasily while the woman seemed to speak with a tone of frustration, her nose wrinkled while she talked with her hands. The crowd of people gathered were unsure of what to make of these new guests, and they sipped their wine with baited breath.

“M’lady… Princess. You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s very terrible at introductions.” The woman pushed her way past Garrett, shoving a sharp elbow in the gaps of his armor causing the man to flinch in shock. “My name is Bethany, and that’s my brother Carver.” She motioned her head to the clean cut man who nodded in acknowledgement. “Like Garrett was saying, he has business with Sebastian. I apologize that we barged in on your party.” Bethany’s dark eyes swept the crowd apologetically.

“It’s nice to meet you all. I have heard many stories about the Hawke family so it’s wonderful that I am able to place faces to the name.” Zarina brushed around Alistair, who had still refused to sheath his sword.

“You are too kind, Princess.” Bethany swooped into a curtsey as Zarina approached her, her simple gown gathered around her dainty feet.

“Garrett Hawke, is that you my old friend?” Sebastian’s voice boomed over the crowd as he quickened his pace to embrace the rugged man. “I knew all that commotion had a familiar ring to it.” Garrett reeled back and released a booming laugh that showed all of his teeth.

“My love, this is my good friend Garrett Hawke. We used to do business together in Kirkwall.” Sebastian wrapped his arm around Zarina’s waist, yet the elf found herself recoiling from his touch. _Then why have you never mentioned him to me_. She hissed to herself.

“If by business you mean run the place into the ground then try to rebuild it then sure, we did business.” Garrett’s twinkling eyes fell on Zarina, who rose to meet his gaze.

“Garrett was just discussing that with me. His arrival is a surprise, but we are happy to host you and your family.” Zarina’s comments moved from her fiancée to the newcomer.

“We appreciate your hospitality but we are merely here for business. I promise we’ll be out of your hair by the end of the night.” Garrett winked and made his way to the hallway. “Shall we talk, Sebastian?”

            Her fiancée pressed his lips to her copper hairline then followed his friend. “We shall be back, my darling. Please everyone, enjoy yourselves.” He called out over the crowd. With a few short strides he had disappeared with Hawke into the dark hallway. Zarina’s stomach twisted with unease over the situation. Sebastian had never been anything but forthcoming throughout their relationship. Despite their profound differences, Sebastian was adamant about making their relationship work and sought to include Zarina in all decisions. Hawke’s arrival swept in a storm of doubt that clouded her mind with frustration and unanswered questions. These new emotions confused Zarina. Since her arrival when she was a child, she had made it a point to be romantically absent in her relationship with Sebastian. She was aware that marriage would bring about physical expectations, but she felt confident in her ability to perform her duties without developing an attachment to her husband. _Do I have feelings for this shem?_

“Princess?”

            Josephine had reappeared at Zarina’s side, inquisitive eyes searching her freckled face. Zarina looked over the crowd and realized that all eyes were on her, anticipating her next move. Remembering her wine glass in her hand, she raised it above her head towards the crowd, hoping to entice them with the human gesture. The gathered crowd hesitated at her movement.

“Thank you friends for being wonderfully patient during this time. I concur that we continue on with the lovely night with full glasses and full hearts.” A soft smile concluded her offering of a speech. An enthusiastic clap could be heard from the corner, where a rosy cheeked and bleary eyed Dorian stood, a huge smile painted across his face.

“Thank you for being an accommodating host, my dear.” Dorian saluted back to the elf with an overflowing glass. Slow claps could be heard gathering around the room, followed by clinking of glasses and smiles between individuals. Zarina motioned for the present staff members to quickly refill the glasses of all those present in the room, then turned to Josephine with a sigh.

“You handled that well, Princess.” Josephine raised her glass to the elf, a reassuring smile painted across her lips, then proceeded to empty her glass of the liquid. “What a night.”

“What a night, indeed.” The words slipped through the heavy air, causing Zarina’s wine to run sour on her tongue. Flemeth approached the elf and Antivan, followed closely by her daughter. Both were adorned in dark velvet dresses trimmed with lace, cut low to reveal their cleavage. Morrigan’s hair brushed around her shoulders as she dipped her head to inspect Zarina, dark lips pursed in disgust.

“Enjoying your evening, m’ladies?” Josephine turned and curtseyed stiffly toward the women, eyes refusing the break their gazes.

“It’s always interesting to see how a queen-to-be handles herself at these events. Even if disruptions arrive-“ Flemeth glanced disapprovingly at the remaining Hawke siblings who had clung to the wall in attempt to further refrain from causing a spectacle. “One must rule with an iron fist. I am not quite sure if we witnessed that tonight. What do you think, my dear daughter?”

“I agree whole-heartedly, mother. It seems as if you lack an important quality, Princess. Perhaps your fiancée can teach you the proper human way of how to handle your court.” The words pierced themselves into Zarina’s eardrum as if she had been struck by an assassin. Red flushed furiously to her cheeks with a heat that sought to eradicate her freckles. Her fists balled up tightly, revealing the whites of her knuckles.

“ _Dirthara-ma, shemlen_.” She hissed at the pair, who startled in surprise at the venom her tongue held.

Flemeth’s aged hand clasped her chest in surprise, yet a smirk tickled at the edge of her mouth. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth released the final blow. “My, you just can’t take the savage out of the elf.” Time slowed around the group, Zarina felt every beat of her heart reverberate off of her ribcage as anger swelled in her veins. Her vision became clouded in fury, and her arm began to reel back, poised for a defiant strike against the smirking woman. Before she was able to unleash the tension built up in her arm against the woman, and firm hand grabbed her wrist and twisted her around to face a slender figure dressed in a dark purple suit with a fur sash tied across his chest.

_Solas_. She breathed as she refrained from burying her fury in his chest.

“ _Atish’an, falon_.” His words dripped over her like calming waters, washing her vision clean and her mind pure. She was sure that Solas had stopped her before the group realized what she was poised to do. The cackling of women surrounded her, but the noise fell flatly around Zarina, as if she had cotton stuck in her ears.

“Music! Can we have music please?” Josephine tried to cover the panic in her voice as she barked her instructions, waving her arms to catch the attention of the musicians. The quartet quickly built a melody the swept around the room. Solas moved his hand to intertwine with Zarina’s delicate fingers, his other arm wrapped protectively around her waist, drawing her into him. The smell of pine and smoke filled her lungs, blanketing her insides with a sense of comfort.

“Dance with me?” His breath smelled of sweet wine, and his kind eyes searched her face.

“Of course.”

            The tutor swept her around the room, leading her with each step, fingertips pressed against the curve of her spine. Zarina twirled her fingers into his sash made of dense wolf fur, looking up into her tutor’s face she realized that he had yet to take his eyes off of her. This close, she could make out the dusting of freckles across his nose, barely visible if one wasn’t looking. The skirt of her dress flared out around her legs as Solas spun her, a smile bubbled up from inside her and spilled out over her face.

“Look at the people.” Solas motioned with a nod of his head once he pulled her to him once more. Zarina turned to see that others had joined them in dancing, twirling around in each other’s arms. Some clumsily spilled drinks on another, yet the room seemed to vibrate with laughter and music. Despite the Hawke family arriving uninvited, Sebastian’s secrecy, and the confrontation with Flemeth, a sense of calm overcame Zarina. Seeing the joy and laughter painted across her guests faces while they celebrated with each other reminded her of home.

“They’re dancing.” She whispered so quietly that she was unsure if she heard herself.

“All because of you.” Zarina locked her golden orbs onto Solas’. His eyes faltered to her lips, then to her freckles. Zarina’s hand moved suddenly to cup his face, her thumb defiantly stroked his cheek. _I shouldn’t be doing this_. She chided herself.

“Princess…” Solas reached up to clasp her hand, and Zarina felt the rough texture of paper sliding between her fingers.

“Now this is a party!” Hawke had reappeared within the room with an exhausted looking Sebastian trailing behind him. Solas retreated from Zarina, who swiftly stuffed the rolled paper into the front of her dress.

“Thank you for stopping by, my old friend. I am sad to see you go so soon.” Sebastian patted Hawke on the back, his eyes shifted around Zarina, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“So soon? I won’t leave until I have a dance with your beautiful bride to be.” Hawke closed the space between him and Zarina, causing Solas to recede to the wall, hands clasped behind his back. Hawke’s rough hand clasped Zarina’s, a sharp contrast to Solas’, and he planted a kiss on the top of her hand. “Of course, if that’s okay with you m’lady?” Brown eyes looked up into Zarina’s, an air of innocence shifted in them.

“Sebastian?” Her fiancée finally met her questioning gaze, and he offered her a nod of approval. Zarina dipped into a curtsey, then was quickly swept around by the burly human. Hawke stumbled around to the music, and the crowd parted to avoid being trampled by the man. Try as she might to keep her feet from being stepped on, Hawke’s lumbering feet seemed to find themselves on top of Zarina’s dainty ones.

“I do apologize if I ruined your night, Princess.” Hawke chuckled nervously, watching his cumbrous movements.

“It’s quite alright. I trust you and Sebastian attended to business?” Zarina winced as her foot was crushed once more.

“Of course! Everything is in order, as it should be.” The music slowly dipped in melody, and then fell away as the song ended. The crowd around them slowly erupted in a round of soft claps, followed by giggled whispers concealed by hands. Zarina smiled pitifully at Hawke, but found herself unable to pull away from him. He had tightened his grip around her waist and leaned in so his breath fell on her neck and his beard tickled her exposed shoulder.

“Princess, those closest to you put you in the most danger. I had to warn you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirthara-ma- “May you learn”   
> Atish’an, falon- “Peace, friend”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The leaves have decided not to stay,  
> Winter slowly creeps over the land.  
> Yet spring still blooms in my heart,  
> Small buds of love.  
> Shall they grow through the snow?

“What does that even mean?” Merrill had perched herself on the arm of the couch, peering down at her friend that had collapsed from the evening’s festivities. The night following Hawke’s warning had spiraled around Zarina’s mind, and she found herself unable to grasp on to one single moment. After his hastened warning, the burly man had rushed himself and his siblings from the dining room with little more than a wave over his shoulder. Perhaps it was the wine, or the shock of his statement, but an overwhelming feeling of warmth and dread had balled up in her gut, causing her to be unable to grasp on to what was happening around her. The last thing she remembered was Merrill, Josephine, and Sebastian ushering Zarina and Dorian up the stairs. Sebastian cradled her across his defined chest, and Zarina’s head fell comfortably –almost naturally- to his shoulder. When she looked over his shoulder at the disappearing ballroom, two familiar eyes caught her attention, then they quickly darted out of the room.

            The morning had found the elf and humans in disarray. Zarina noted that she had barely made it out of her dress, and the jewelry still hung heavily from her now aching ears. Elgar had wrapped his body protectively around her, but the well-meaning animal took up most of the couch, causing Zarina to teeter on the edge. Dorian had miraculously made it to the arm chair on the other side of the room, still clothed, and loudly snoring. Josephine sat curled in a plush armchair across from where Zarina lay. She was donned in a red silk nightdress that she had tucked her legs into, dainty toes adorned with small golden rings peaked out from the ruffled hem. A white teacup was balanced upon the arm of the chair, wisps of white steam told Zarina that whatever was in it must be fresh.

“Surely he said more than that?” Josephine reached for the steaming cup, her dark eyes surveyed the elf.

 “Not from what I remembered. It seemed cryptic enough that I didn’t think to probe any further.” Zarina shifted to her elbows, the movement was received with an annoyed huff from the oversized wolf, who slid from the couch and proceeded to curl up under the oak coffee table. Zarina wasn’t known in court for her likeability, and she hadn’t let many people get close to her since her arrival. For that reason, Garrett’s warning didn’t make sense.

“Do you think he was bluffing?” The room was sent whirling as Zarina moved to a sitting position, she instinctually reached for her head while letting out a soft cry. Perhaps it was the wine that got to her, but she didn’t recall drinking that much. Although, Merrill always teased her for being unable to hold her alcohol.

“Truthfully, there is no telling. Garrett _is_ known for his advantageous storytelling, so I wouldn’t start questioning individuals just yet.” Josephine reached over the table, passing her cup of steaming liquid to Zarina who willingly accepted it. The steam from the tea tickled Zarina’s face, the aroma of herbs tempted her with the promise of clear thoughts. Zarina pressed her lips to the brim of the cup, eagerly drinking the liquid.

“Princess, there is something more serious we must discuss.” Josephine’s voice dropped to a venomous whisper, a tone that rang unfamiliar and uneasily in Zarina’s ears. She gazed curiously at her advisor, who moved to reveal a rolled piece of parchment that she had concealed in her sleeve. She displayed the paper between two manicured fingers, an arched eyebrow announced that she had Zarina cornered.

_Shit_.

“Josephine-“

“You know you can’t keep this up.” The Antivan was quick to cut her off, she was now leaning across the table, perched like a jungle cat deciding how to end its prey. “This could _end_ you. This could end him! Do you realize that?” Her words snaked through Zarina’s veins like poison, and the she elf found herself unable to move. Zarina shifted to face Merrill, searching for an ounce of possible support her friend could have offered her. Merrill awkwardly looked between Josephine and Zarina, anxiously twisting her dark hair between two fingers.

“She’s right, you know.” The words left Merrill’s mouth quietly, and her gaze quickly shot to Josephine for reassurance that she had said the right thing.

“You both don’t understand. What’s between Solas and me is completely harmless.” The color had returned to Zarina’s face in full fury. They didn’t understand, how could they? They weren’t brought to court against their will, they weren’t being forced to marry a shem who didn’t understand a single thing about Dalish culture.

“Harmless? A possible assassination attempt against you is harmless? The defamation of the Dalish is harmless?” Josephine was now standing, her curls bounced angrily around her face, seeming to take a note from her tone. The Antivan waved the letter just inches from Zarina’s nose. “You don’t understand the weight your actions carry.” Zarina quickly snatched the letter from Josephine’s grasp, balling it up angrily in a tight fist.

“Fine. I’ll get rid of it.” Zarina moved silently for the fireplace, her steps wobbled and her mind was thrown in circles. The fireplace had been untouched in Zarina’s renovations, and proudly displayed its inlay of white marble like a war medallion. The elf reached out an apprehensive hand to steady herself on the mantle, unsure if it was the remnants of alcohol in her bloodstream or the argument that was making her unsteady. The fire below licked its lips, cackling from its warm confines, begging for a sacrifice. Zarina looked upon the flame beast, and unraveled the paper clenched in her fist. She was always impressed with how neat Solas’ handwriting was, how each letter was perfectly defined. She had always expected his writing to be consumed by scratch marks and flourishing, but the simplicity of his scrawl revealed more about the elf than she had realized. Her thumb ran over the letters, trying to savor each word. Visions of Solas rolled through her head, her sleepless tutor writing a verse, deeming it unfit, then tossing it into an overflowing pile of rejects. Whether his first or last draft, she would have loved them just the same.

“Zarina.” Josephine’s voice cracked like a whip, she had perched an impatient hand on her hip.

_Goodbye_. Zarina dropped the note into the hungry fire, and it was consumed within seconds. She refused to break contact until all of the note had sunk between the embers. Vines of regret immediately sprung within her, trying to tug her heart from its bony confines to pull it into the depths of her stomach. Every note she had received from Solas was like a small gem cut from the precious stone that was him. In rare times when she found herself alone, she would gather her collection from the chest under her bed, unfold the letters, and bask in the joy they brought. She felt the gripping fear of loss, and it shook her insides like a relentless hurricane.

“There, now that’s done. We do have some important business to attend to.” Her advisor’s words fell dead in Zarina’s ears. The elf turned on the pair of women, face flushed and brow furrowed.

“I hope you’re happy now.” The words slithered from her tongue, striking Josephine like a viper. Zarina reached for a slip that laid across a nearby chair, threw it fitfully over her head, and then stormed toward the oaken door, no longer able to breathe in the room that swirled with the remnants of Solas’ words. Elgar met his owner at the door, he sensed Zarina’s anger and anxiously pawed at the bottom of the door. The door slammed after the duo exited, the forgotten teacup shivered on the table in response.

“Maker.” Dorian groaned from the chair, wearily rubbing at his eyes with a still jeweled hand. “You two just _had_ to piss off the Princess and wake me from my beauty sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone could bring toe rings back, it would be Josephine.   
> Also, Solas over-thinking poems is the epitome of my time working on this fic. So instead of Solas, just imagine a 5'3" ginger crying over her laptop trying to make pretty words, surrounded by empty wine bottles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How shall I call you,  
> My lover, my forever  
> What name shall I utter  
> For the rest of eternity?

The gaudy walls of the castle blurred by Zarina as she stalked through the hallways, Elgar’s claws clicked alongside her against the marble as he matched his owners quickened pace. Confused murmurs of ‘Princess’ from castle staff and visiting dignitaries soared past her, but they were unable to land within Zarina’s ears. She must have been a sight, donned only in a thin white satin slip that tangled up around her bare ankles, hair half done from the night before. The people and greetings passed by her in shades of grey, all she could focus on was the aging expanse of the castle garden, but she wasn’t sure if her feet would stop at the garden’s edge.

The russet brick of the courtyard expanded before her, she took a solemn step from the smooth marble floor to the unfinished edges of red brick. Her toes curled, greeting the new surface, thanking it for being imperfect. Stained leaves pirouetted over her feet in dizzying circles, inviting her to dance with them. Zarina hurried across the red expanse of brick, her heels dragged awkwardly over the masonry, leaving the skin on the bottom of her feet raw.

_Shems hate rough feet._ A mischievous grin trickled over her freckled face, and she continued in this manner, relishing in the blasphemy. The garden was a place of worship for Zarina, and she was their goddess. The flowers offered their plum-colored petals, the trees relinquished the last of their leaves, and the earth promised its warmth. This green expanse is the kingdom Zarina wished for, not the walls of the castle that blubbered heavily with jewels and gossip. Her feet carried her past the flowers that Sebastian planted to remind her of her homeland, past the trees that would have hung shamefully under the grand oaks of forest her clan inhabited. A chilled wind bit at the exposed skin and tore relentlessly at the silken garment that clung to her curves, but Zarina failed to take notice. The land past the castle grounds consumed her mind, the painted meadows began relinquishing the lush of their greens to the melancholy colors of death. A lake was nestled between the grove of oaks and a far off stable, accompanied by a leaning cabin. The sweet smells of seasons past tugged playfully at Zarina.

The outskirts of the castle grounds had served as Zarina’s refuge when she first arrived many years ago. For months, the small elf could be found curled stealthily among the tree branches. Tracks in the underbrush would signal what she wanted, and the release of an arrow from her taunt bow would bring her some sense of comfort. She needed that release, the ability to take care of herself once more, to provide for her and Elgar like she had in another life. A week had passed before the palace guards, led by a concerned Sebastian, finally caught her in the woods. A fresh kill was slung over her shoulder, a mixture of blood and dirt stained her wrinkled tunic, much to the shock of the hunting party. Sebastian guided her back to the castle under the cover of night in an effort to not draw attention to the wild elven princess, and she was hastily cleaned and her bow was relinquished from her. Sometimes she could still feel the firm vibration of a strung bow on her fingertips, and a soft hum of a singing arrow filled her ears.

Zarina’s feet halted her escape, then turned to face the tower her tutor resided in as if she were a compass that had finally found true north. The tower loomed mysteriously in the sky, the red brick only gave way to a weathered oaken door and two small windows. Zarina had never witnessed the tower from the inside, Sebastian made sure that her and Solas interacted in public places with prying eyes on them at all times. She would catch herself in her thoughts, which concocted tales about the contents of the tower. Bookshelves of aged oak would line the curves of the tower, sunken over the weight of dusty tomes. A small desk tucked under the staircase that was always lit with a half burned candle. The dust from the shelves would float up with the smoke from the candle, carrying its distinct scent to the loft were a sleeping Solas lay, eyelashes softly fluttering at the arrival of dawn.

A cold nose pressed to Zarina’s calf alerted her that she had begun to dote too long on the memory. Elgar nudged her again with a large black snout, signaling her to continue with the soft wag of his tail. Zarina’s hand found its way behind the wolf’s perked ears, a scratch brought about an excited wiggle that overcame the animal.

“Ghilana, Elgar.” She clucked to the wolf, who answered with an excited yip. Elgar continued down the path that led to the lake, large paws padded quickly against the brick. His gait carried him along the path in an “S” formation, allowing him to simultaneously check both sides of the road while keeping a protective gaze over Zarina. As the princess fell in line behind the wolf, she wondered how long it would take for Josephine to send Alistair after her. Hours? Days?

_I am too valuable for them to stall that long_. A bitter tone overcame her. The wedding loomed ever closer, therefore Josephine would try to avoid a clamor at all costs. The Antivan was probably furiously searching for her guard, with a timid Merrill in tow. _Always check the kitchen first_. A childish smirk curled at Zarina’s lips as she fondly remembered when Alistair was caught sneaking pastries from the kitchen when he was scheduled to be watching a younger Zarina. They were ignorant to the fact that he was trying to win over her friendship with brightly iced cookies and tarts.

            A loud bark erupted from Elgar and the massive animal took off at an extraordinary gait towards the stables. “Elgar!” Zarina’s heart skipped a beat at the urgency with which her wolf ran. “Garas!” She yelled after the wolf, who continued to fly towards the building. Zarina gathered the hem of her silk slip in her fist and took off after the animal, who had quickly put distance between them. Muscles extended and retracted in ways that once came naturally, but now felt foreign. Legs that had grown accustomed to stagnation were now carrying the elf over beds of flowers and grass, quickly gaining ground on the wolf. The wind ripped at Zarina’s dress, trying to slow her from reaching her target, but her legs kept carrying her. She almost forgot what it felt like to run, to have adrenaline snake through her veins. She almost forgot what it felt like to be alive.

            Elgar skidded to a stop in front of the stables, hackles erect and teeth bared. A young boy had placed himself between the sharp teeth of the wolf and the erratic shuffling of a nervous deer. Hands wrapped in stained cloth were raised apprehensively towards the poised wolf, his lips moved quickly but Zarina was still too far to make out the words.

“Elgar!” The final plea was ripped breathlessly from Zarina’s lips by the wind. A few more strides brought her to the scene, and to a fearsome wolf who had relinquished its teeth and offered its belly to the curious boy. Her bare feet brought her to a halt, and she unclenched the train of her dress to allow it to lick her exposed ankles once more, golden eyes took in the frail form of the boy. Gentle hands were covered in blisters, yet they ran over Elgar’s wiry coat without hesitation. Deep set eyes void of color were barely visible behind shaggy blonde hair, and cracked lips whispered calmly to the mass of dog beneath him. The lanky deer that once stood erect from panic was now grazing peacefully behind him, ears still alert to the boys words.

“I’m sorry about him.” Zarina began, she shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “He usually listens to me.”

“That’s quite alright.” The boy’s voice was smooth and quite, unlike his rugged appearance, and he spoke without looking up from the wolf. Zarina broke her gaze from the boy and her wolf, and she looked at the barn that stood worn down on the edge of the castle property. Wood from the surrounding forests had been gathered to construct the simple building, and the rain and sun made quick work of wearing the wood smooth. A small corral was adjacent to the barn, two chestnut colored horses nosed through patches of grass.

            The strange boy stood suddenly, then turned towards the deer that grazed silently behind him. Elgar shifted to his side in disapproval, soft whines escaped him as he watched the boy move quietly away from him. Zarina clucked her tongue, signaling a reluctant wolf back to her side. Zarina eyed the boy curiously, then began to follow behind him.

“What exactly do you- oh!” The deer perked at her approaching, black eyes widened with fear, the deer bolted into the expanse of woods. The young boy helplessly watched at the deer shot between bushes and trees before disappearing in the thick of the forest.

“Oh gods, I am so sorry!” The frame of the boy turned on Zarina, and his eyes picked over her frame as if dissecting the elf before him. A moment passed between the pair and the forest that surrounded them held its breath, the boy shuffled his feet before finally responding.

“My name is Cole.” The words soared towards Zarina on the breath of an exhale. “I’m the groundskeeper.” His eyes fell to his hands, unable to hold Zarina’s questioning gaze, and a rough hand adjusted the bandages of the other. The frail frame of the boy seemed to shrink into his surroundings, as if he were a ghost of the barn. His eyes circulated his surroundings, but continuously failed to land on the fiery-haired elf before him. A soft whine escaped from the wolf at Zarina’s side, and he began to furiously wag his tail when the boy’s gaze fell on him.

A soft smiled spread across Zarina’s lips. “You have a way with animals.”

            The boy fell onto his knees and the white mass of wolf excitedly scooted into Cole’s arms, tongue falling from his black lips as Cole’s hands found themselves behind the back of Elgar’s ears. An unspoken innocence seemed to radiate from the boy, as if he were a new spring bud that managed to push itself from the earth with a content sigh. Where there was innocence, sadness also seemed to lurk, like a stubborn weed that continued to harass the new bloom.

“Animals don’t ask for much.” His voice was smooth like glass, and each word was spoken with care. “I don’t either.”

“Princess! Zarina!” Sharp voices broke the calm that had settled between the elf and the boy. Elgar rolled away from Cole, body alert and rigid as his eyes scanned the party that was ascending on them. Josephine led the group, skirts gathered awkwardly in her hands to prevent her gown from dragging through the grass while still keeping the hem at a modest length. Merrill and Alistair closed in behind the Antivan, and Dorian kept a steady pace behind the leaders, face painted with a disheveled flair. Zarina stood to face the approaching group, fingers anxiously buried in Elgar’s scruff.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The Antivan exclaimed, furious eyes taking in the sheerness of Zarina’s dress and the dirt that had gathered between her toes.

“I’m sure you have.” The words dripped with venom as Zarina pulled her face taunt with a smug grin. Merrill appeared from behind Josephine, bright eyes begged for Zarina to surrender to the group.

“We’re sorry about what happened.” Merrill’s voice was frail as she chose her words carefully. “Please come back with us.” Zarina’s gaze rested on each of their faces, forehead wrinkled from frustration. She turned to fall back into the calm that was the groundskeeper, but found that the boy had vanished back into his surroundings. The princess hesitated, then relinquished her grip on Elgar.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Her voice wavered despite her effort to conceal her emotions. Josephine’s lips parted, as if to offer a final word, but her painted lips were unable to form a comment. She simply turned towards the distant castle, hiked up her dress to expose a toned calf, then proceeded through the meadow. Alistair remained tight lipped, nodded to Dorian that they were to return. Dorian responded with a moody breath of disapproval, whipped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow, then followed the guard.

            Merrill linked arms with Zarina, and the pair flanked the rest of the group with Elgar keeping pace beside them. Silence settled awkwardly between the pair, both unsure of how to process the chaotic morning. Anger rooted itself at the base of Zarina’s consciousness, she knew that Merrill meant well but her friend’s loyalty resided with her. Shame, or something of the sort, tried to soothe the anger, tried to reason that Merrill owned nothing to her. Zarina’s face flushed, and she tried to swallow the emotion.

“Here.” Merrill’s voice dropped to a suspicious whisper as she cast a wary eye over those that lead them. A hurried palm pressed something into Zarina’s, and a cluck of the tongue demanded Zarina’s silence. The princess’ fist fell to her side as she cast a confused eye over her friend, then chanced a look at the contents that she bore in secret. Parchment, with the edges unraveled from a fire. She could make out the simplicity of Solas’ writing.

“Is this..?” A sharp elbow in the princess’ ribs once again demanded her silence, but also confirmed her suspicions.

“You know magic is forbidden.” Zarina tried to curb the sharpness of her tongue, but she feared for her friends. Most of Orlais remained unforgiving of magic unless it was used for parlor tricks, Sebastian continuously lamented the use of magic, often described it as an uncontrollable plague. No one in the castle knew of Merrill’s power, of how she had accidentally burned Zarina’s eyebrows off when they were children. If the nobility were to find out, Merrill wouldn’t make it out of Orlais alive.

“You deserve to be happy, my friend." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lay in awake in wonderment,  
> The night sky painted above me  
> I can’t help but laugh in defiance at the Gods  
> They faltered when they constructed the heavens,  
> For they were unable to create something  
> More astounding than you.

The waning moon had settled just above the castle when the group’s feet finally kicked up the dirt of the palace garden. Josephine dictated the slow pace to ensure that the night would conceal their entry back into the castle as a means to limit the amount of eyes that witnessed the princess returning from her emotional escapade. Little was exchanged between the group on their journey besides Josephine’s weary eyes passing protectively over the group to confirm that Zarina hadn’t wandered off once again. Elgar sensed the tension that hung heavily over them, and he pressed his body anxiously against Zarina, keeping in time with her step.

            Zarina and Merrill walked arm in arm along the garden path, Solas’ returned note burned against the flesh of her chest. The princess was still speechless at the fact that Merrill had broken the rule of not using magic to save something that she must have viewed as trivial. Her golden orbs shifted to the side to take in her friend, whose choppy black hair licked at the soft curve of her jaw. Merrill must have felt the princess’ eyes upon her, because she returned her gaze with a quizzical brow. A smile splayed across Zarina’s face as the night air welcomed them into the garden, which had come alive under the power of the ethereal god that hung drearily in the sky. The petals of the moonflowers had splayed open as an offering bestowed upon the heavens, the soft wind carried their prayers up to the regal stars above.

            The tower that Solas resided in loomed to the left of the group, Josephine made sure to hug the walls that lined to trail back to the castle so that they would be covered in the shadows of the slumbering trees. Zarina chanced a glance at the top of the window, where she imagined Solas would end his days illuminated by the candle light, tired eyes hovering over the text of a dated tome. A candle flickered in the open window, fighting against the wind that pushed the group closer to the castle grounds. She wondered if he had watched her descent into the forest, feet and heart bare, she wondered if he would have chased after her. Dorian cleared his throat, alerting Zarina to the fact that her eyes had wandered for longer than necessary, Merrill guided her friend past the tower, past the question that still hung at the base of Zarina’s mind. She sent a prayed up to the Gods, that somehow, someway, they would give them both the freedom from the chains of duty.

            The door to the guard’s chambers was constructed of heavy timber and barred from within, Josephine placed a few knocks with her fist against the dense wood, producing low thuds with each strike. The door squealed when it opened to reveal a built surly man, back illuminated by the fire that curled around itself in the fire place. The dark haired man ran his dark eyes over the group, then fell on Josephine’s small frame, her face contorted in an agitated manner. A sigh escaped the man, and he stepped to the side to let the group in. The room was circular, with beds stacked on top of each other across from the fire place. A small table was placed next to a door across from them, and seemed as if it had yet to be used. The fire mingled with the smell of tobacco, and smothered Zarina with its complex smell.

“Sargent Blackwall.” Josephine’s voice was low, her fingers stretched over the purring fire place. The burly man named Blackwall sat down on the thin mattress of the bottom bunk, fingertips drumming against each other. His face was creased with seriousness and age, his raisin colored eyes refused to settle on anything but the silhouette of Josephine. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and Zarina wondered if he were a man of many words. Josephine turned towards him, hands now clasped in front of her.

“We appreciate your discretion with this delicate matter.”  Her voice was curt, dark eyes narrowing at the aged man.

“We understand the situation, advisor.” The voice came from the other side of the fire place, a curved figure moved from the shadows to reveal a woman with short cut hair and hard eyes. Muscular arms crossed across her chest, and she settled into a wide stance before the group. Zarina recognized the voice as the Captain of the castle guard, but the individual that housed the sharp tone was often elusive, never one to show her face unless absolutely necessary. The Captain’s dark eyes fell on the form of the princess, sending a shiver that ricocheted down her spine.

The Antivan tilted her head, examining the Captain with a downward turn of her lips. “Thank you for being here Captain Cassandra,” her voice was flat, “We need to get the Princess up to her room without drawing any more attention to herself.” Her eyes slipped to the redheaded elf that clung to Merrill, lips now pursed in exhausted frustration. Cassandra’s lips curled into a smirk as she sauntered back towards the fireplace mantle, fingers moved knowingly over the cracked bricks until she found one that gave under her touch. She wedged the brick from its place and placed it on top of the mantle, her eyes darted to the group as she made her way around the fireplace to the wall. Her hand pushed against a wooden plank, and the wall gave way to a dark corridor.

“I knew there was something creepy about this castle.” Dorian tugged curiously at his goatee, eyebrow raised in disapproval. Merrill gave him a playful push towards the opening.

“I think it looks like a lovely place for a stroll.”

     Zarina relinquished her elven friends arm to examine the entrance, the smell of dust and mystery emulated from the tunnel. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but trickles of light could be seen filtering in, catching on the dust that hovered in the air, ageless, timeless. Soft murmurs reverberated off the stones, Zarina cocked an ear towards the tunnel to try and pick through the muffles, but to no avail. “These tunnels must have been here for ages.” She whispered to no one in particular.

“They were built with the castle, a means for the royal family to escape or for the guards to be anywhere in the castle at a minutes notice.” Cassandra’s hand rested on the curve of her hip, her body leaning against the wall, amused at the expressions of the princess and her entourage.

“The halls also act as a means of spying, they weren’t kidding when they said even the walls have ears.” The haggard man’s voice broke through the awe that filtered through the air. Cassandra’s sharp chin jutted in his direction, face settled into a disapproving glare.

“Of course, they’re only used for that purpose during troubling times. Like during corruption, and the sort.” He continued, clearing his throat and avoiding the Captains gaze.

“How charming.” Dorian clucked his tongue disapprovingly, leaning in closer to examine the tunnel.

The Captain shifted her weight between her feet, posture alluding to the impatience that had begun to bubble over within. “If we are to get the Princess safely to her chambers, we must move quickly.” Her eyes locked with Josephine’s, who nodded in agreement. The mass of man shifted from behind the group, shuffling his way to the opening of the tunnel, head almost brushing the top of the entrance. His eyes passed over Cassandra, and a silent understanding passed between them because his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “I’ll lead the way, tread quickly and don’t speak.” His voice erupted from his throat in a low grumble.

Josephine gathered her skirts in her fists, falling behind the bear of a man. Merrill pushed Dorian forward, who began to protest but was quickly silenced by a cutting glance from Cassandra. The man obediently fell in line behind Josephine, clasping Merrill’s hand so that she was forced to follow behind him. Merrill looked back over her shoulder at Zarina, offering a small smile that was intended to convince the Princess that everything was going to be okay. Zarina’s palms began to feel clammy, and she clenched them nervously as if to command the feelings that shook her away. It was not the darkness that she was afraid of, in fact the darkness is where she felt the most comfortable. It gave her the freedom to slide through the shadows like an animal of the night, and she found comfort in the folds of the darkness, away from the prying eyes of the day dwellers.

No, it was the tight space that caused all of Zarina’s body to hold its collective breath. The dark passage beckoned at Zarina with curled hands that reeked of a bitter past, one that was tainted by power and jealousy. She feared the overwhelming stench of the past would choke her as soon as she stepped through the entrance. The fear pulled her within herself, whispered darkly in her ear, reminding her of where it originally stemmed.

She was young, years away from the growth and responsibility of her teens. Dusk had burrowed itself across the forest floor, the last glimmers of sunlight clung to the fog that curled itself around the trunks of the trees. Her and her sister flew over fallen trees as they chased each other barefoot through the thicket of the forest. Zarina remembered how she had trouble outrunning her sister, but she was clever enough to delve into the shadows of the forest floor in an attempt to evade her sister’s chase. As her legs began to ache with exertion, her eyes caught the hollowed out inside of an oak tree that had succumbed to age and was now rotting amongst the fallen leaves and fungi. She quickly rounded a corner and ducked under a large-leafed bush, falling to her knees she scuffled her way to the tree corpse and inched her way inside. A tight fit, but she was able to wiggle herself in until her who body was encased by the tree. The sounds of leaves crunching alerted the young elf that her sister was near, giggles began to bubble at the base of her belly and she had to bite her bottom lip to prevent them from escaping.

“Zarina!” Her sister’s voice called out, followed by the noise of more rustling leaves. The noise trekked its way around the trunk, then began to fade off into the distance. A sigh escaped the young Zarina, she had successfully evaded her sister in their game. She pressed her palms against the bark and tried to push herself out, but her attempt only resulted in splinters wedging themselves into her palms. The cold breath of worry settled at the base of Zarina’s spine, as she tried to wiggle her way out of her position. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she tried to fight back the realization that she was stuck, and her sister was probably leagues from her by now.

“Ma halani!” The young elf cried, her voice echoed off of the deaf pines. Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks at the realization that she had to wait for someone to come rescue her. The chill of dusk began settling across the forest floor and nibbled anxiously at the elven girl’s toes. The trunk seemed to shrink with each minute, promising to never release her from her oaken casket.

A cold nose to the back of her knee brought her back to the warm musk of the room. The dusk-ridden forest was replaced by a lowly lit room filled with eyes surveying her, questioning looks painted across their faces. A soft whimper came from Zarina’s side, followed by another cold nudge. Elgar’s large dark eyes peered up at her, they shared a moment of eye contact before Elgar trotted over towards the entrance, the soft wag of his tail reassured the Princess. Zarina tucked a stray curl behind her ear and passed an apologetic smile to the Captain before falling in line behind Elgar. Cassandra paused while the others went ahead, checked the surrounding area to make sure that no wandering souls had found their way into the room, and then her gloved hands began working the hidden wall back into place.

Cobwebs clung to the walls and hung from the ceilings like eerie decorations. The passageway was narrow and dim, the only source of light trickled through the cracks in the brick. Zarina was able to see through the faults in the inner wall, passing an omniscient eye over the happenings within the castle. A maid walked from room to room, distributing fresh linens on the beds, her full figure reflected by the dim candlelight that filled each room.

_This is what the Gods must feel like_. Zarina thought cheekily, shame nibbled curiously at the tips of her ears. It felt wrong to spy on unknowing inhabitant, to resurrect the original purpose of the tunnels that was rooted in deceit. Still, the Princess found it hard to redirect her eyes when she passed the cracks in the wall that provided an eye into a world she generally would have not seen.

“You and I both know that she is a liability.”

The words caught Zarina’s attention, and she paused mid-stride, unsure of what she had truly heard. There were no cracks to peer through, and although the thick walls muffled the voices indistinguishable, she was still able to make out the words. Elgar noticed that Zarina had trailed behind him, and the great wolf turned and anxiously wagged his tail. Zarina motioned for the wolf to stay silent, and pressed her ear against the dusty stone.  

“Of course I know that. We must keep her blind to the truth, and you have to ensure that she believes it.”

A hand on Zarina’s shoulder startled the Princess from the wall, and she whipped around to the stern face of the Captain. Zarina began forming apologies on her lips, but Cassandra silenced them with a look, then a sharp nod that signaled for her to return to the group.

_Blind to the truth?_ Zarina stirred the line repeatedly over in her mind, trying to make sense of the conversation.

 

* * *

 

The familiar warmth and smells washed over the Princess and her group as the tunnels opened up from a concealed door in the corner of her bedroom. Zarina’s chest swelled with a mixture of emotions, all sense of privacy that once existed now burned with doubt, but she found comfort in knowing that an escape route presided mere steps from her bed.

_Hopefully that won’t be necessary_ , she completed her thought with a drawn out sigh. Her body ached, and the curls of her hair were awry. All she could think of was sliding out of her dress and into the silk sheets of her bed. The guards had disappeared back into the wall with little more than a quiet nod and the Antivan who had slipped through the door to meet with her personnel to try and hush the rumors that burned through the castle like wildfire. The room was now only occupied with the Princess, the secret mage, the dressmaker, and the wild wolf.

Elgar had curled himself around the pillows on Zarina’s bed, settling into the stuffing with an exhausted huff. His fur reflected in the dying fire that dozed in the fireplace, his dense coat mimicked the colors of the embers like the sun reflected on fresh snow. Dorian slowly twisted off his rings and discarded them on the table, his fingers worked over the places that his jewelry had rubbed raw. Lines formed between his brows at the tediousness of his work, and Zarina carefully watched his movements from the bed, in awe at how dedicated he was to his craft.

“Dorian?” Merrill’s voice came softly from the mantle, she had reclined against the marble and half-heartedly stoked the flames back to life.

“Yes, love?” Dorian’s usual cadence and projection had been muted from the wear of their travels. Fingers now free from the weight of duty worked at the buttons of his silken garments, revealing his taunt and tanned figure that his clothing did well to conceal.

“How did you end up here?” The elf’s eyes were now on the man, who had settled into the plush couch, feet propped up on the table. A raised eyebrow answered the question before his words left his mouth.

“I had to save your pup of a Princess from the scary vultures of court.” The mischievous glint in his eyes paired with Zarina’s soft golden eyes, and he offered a wink in sympathy. A scoff escaped Zarina’s lips and her hands smoothed through the thick coat of her wolf.

“She means how did you end up in court.” The elf stuck her tongue out childishly to the human, who assessed her with a charming smirk.

“Oh, you want to hear _that_ story.” The grandeur had returned to his voice as his hands worked to untangle his thick hair from its braided confines. He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully as his eyes passed between the two elven women, Merrill had shifted closer, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them closely.

“Well, frankly, I wasn’t born into this cutthroat world. It’s hard to imagine how different my life would have been, if that had been the case.” He paused, working at a knot with his fingertips. “No, my darlings, I was sold into this life. Parents had to survive somehow.” He shifted uncomfortably as his voice trailed off, his eyes refused to settle on anything besides the tangles in his hair.

“Dorian…” Zarina’s voice hung in the air, cautious and unsure.

“It was hard, and I knew that it was. It’s always a shame when a child is aware of the terrible predicament that they live in, takes away from the mysticism of childhood. We were able to escape debt collectors in Tevinter, unfortunately poor circumstances seem to breach even the farthest shorelines. My mother and father picked up odd jobs, nothing stable due to the fact that they were Tevinters.” He was sitting forward now, anxious hands smoothed out the folds of his pants.

“There was a seamstress in the town that was looking for workers, and my parents took me to her. I was quiet, I followed orders, and I became damn good at sewing. The seamstress began asking more from my parents, send me to her more, have me sew more, and the like. Until, one day, she asked for all of me,” A sigh that seemed to hold the weight of twenty lifetimes breezed past his lips, “And my parents said yes.”

“Oh gods.” Merrill was at his feet now, hand rested carefully on his knee in a small attempt at solidarity.

“I’m not sure how much they even got out of me,” Dorian shook his head thoughtfully. “but damn, I hope I wasn’t cheap. After that, I never saw my parents again.”

Silence hung over the room like the heat from the fireplace, uncomfortable yet necessary. None of the friends were able to make eye contact with the other, all were too busy digesting the raw honesty that their friend had laid out. Dorian was never one for sincerity, he would often brush away prying questions with the twitch of his lips and a gleam in his eye. Zarina felt as if a mutual understanding existed between them to not discuss their pasts, to glaze over their lives that existed before court like it was some sickly sweet cupcake. This was a different Dorian, this was the real one that didn’t feel the need to don the gaudy mask of court life.

“Was the seamstress kind?” Zarina paused between sentences, unsure of what to ask but knew that she needed to clear the room of the suffocating silence. “Did you work under her for very long?”

Dorian’s eyes finally connected with hers, which sent chills up Zarina’s arms. She rubbed at them absent-mindly, coaxing the feeling away. “Ahh yes, she was kind. She fed me, never yelled, but she demanded a lot from me. As a child, I didn’t know any better besides the fact that there was no way that I could deny her. No matter how sore my fingers were, no matter how little I slept, I had to meet quota.” His fingers ran over each other as if a remembrance of pain had swelled over them once more. 

“One day, I realized that despite the situation, I had grown to love the craft. I would try to implement new patterns or stitching, but she denied my techniques and demanded that I follow her orders. I decided that she was a fool, and that I wouldn’t be her puppet any longer. I would sneak into the work room at nights to sew how I saw fit, and when I had a couple of pieces, I escaped in the middle of the night. At the break of dawn, I had wandered up to a noble’s house, by the grace of Andraste. The woman of the house answered, and I showed her my work. She fell in love, and that set off the chain of events that brought me here.”

Zarina was unsure of what to do or say, but her body pulled her off the bed and on the couch next to Dorian. None of the words she pieced together seemed right, but this action somehow did. She curled around him, head rested on his shoulder, she could hear the loud thumps of his heart echo through his body.

“I’m not sure if she actually liked my work or relished in the idea that I was a potential charity case, a poor Tevinter lad with some eccentric dresses in tow.” Dorian chuckled, although Zarina couldn’t decide if it was authentic or forced. Dorian’s arm extended behind Zarina’s back, pulling her into his chest, the smell of lavender and leather clung to his skin. He reached out for Merrill with his other hand, clasping her small hand within his.

“Why did you save me that day?” Zarina whispered, her throat closing around the words that she was unsure of asking. A sigh escaped the man as he nestled his cheek into the curls of her flaming hair.

“Because, dove, I saw the same fire in you that I wish someone would have seen in me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ma halani- Help Me


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dawn melts into dusk,  
> The sky painted with the  
> Sun’s blushing descent.  
> How I wonder what colors the sky would be  
> If you were the glorious god instead.

Unusually warm weeks of fall blew decaying leaves over the whispers of court, lips that once dripped with Zarina’s name grew stagnant and chapped. The princess was ordered to remain in her room by Josephine, the fussy Antivan rarely visited Zarina’s quarters and the elf wondered how much damage control could possibly come out of one event. Merrill’s body shared the princess’ chambers, trying to make up for the empty spaces that now existed within the confined walls. Sometimes the pixie-faced elf swore that spirits of laughter still hung over them, confused at the lack of conversation that usually dripped from the walls.

Today, Merrill burst into the room with a large basket suspended between her thin body and arm, balanced perfectly at the peak of her hip. A knowing grin was painted widely across her face as she beamed down at the Princess before placing the basket on a nearby chair. Zarina watched her friend from the couch, she continued to run her fingers through the dense coat of Elgar who had sprawled out over her outstretched legs. Merrill rustled through the basket, muttering so quietly that Zarina was unable to make out any of the words that fell from her friend’s lips.

“Merrill?” Her forehead wrinkled in a quizzical manner as she tried to shift her body in an attempt to see what was in the basket. Elgar’s muzzle lifted and his pale eyes looked at her in a disapproving manner, somehow offended, then shifted until more of his body covered her legs.

“Look at what I’ve brought!” The black-haired elf turned around, face beaming, wielding rolls of yarns in her hands, each tightly bound and brightly colored. Zarina couldn’t decide if she were more amused at the silly grin that threated to shatter her friend’s face, or at the innocence behind the offering of yarn. Waves of memories passed beat mercilessly against Zarina’s ribcage. Weaving was a craft that Zarina’s mother had patiently taught the princess and her friend. Her mother’s soothing voice helped to calm the elves that seemed to constantly buzz with the eagerness that youth brought. It was hard to maintain their focus on the yarn, and they constantly skipped patterns or would entangle themselves in the wool that was woven from halla fur, but the girls soon found solace in the act. The steady movement of fingertips against the loom along with her mother’s guiding hand had brought peace to an unruly youth.

A bitter smile found its way across Zarina’s lips. These memories rang of her siblings laughter, smelled of berries and mint -her mother’s perfume- felt of summer. The endeavors of court almost snuffed these memories out like a worn candle, the smoke from them ached within Zarina’s chest, reviving a longing that she hadn’t felt in some time. It had been years since she had seen her family. Were her younger siblings still rambunctious, chasing the young halla through the forest? Had her oldest sister returned? Was mother graying? Did they remember her, or had the eternalness of the forest begun to spring roots through their memories of her?

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I thought- I can take them back!” Merrill stumbled over her words and began to shove the materials back into the basket. Zarina hadn’t noticed the warmth that welled around her eyes for she had become entangled in the memories. Fingertips coaxed away the tears as a laugh tried to break the awkwardness that had settled between them.

“No, no. Please bring them out,” Slender fingers reached for the bundles of colorful yarn, “I’ve missed weaving.” Merrill looked at her friend with a tilted head, unsure if Zarina just meant well or if her words held the weight of sincerity. She reluctantly handed over the bundles of material to Zarina, who cradled them in her arms like children. A strange feeling overcame the princess as she weighed each bundle in her hand, as if calculating the measure of memories each held. The vibrant red mimicked the colors of the changing leaves that were pulled down to the forest floor by the surety of winter. The pink was comparable to the shifting shades of blush that the sky painted itself with as the sun caressed itself across the vast lover.

Merrill settled herself on the couch next to Zarina, sorting through the rest of the bundles that remained in the basket, stacking them in piles of similar colors. Her friend used to radiate brighter than the summer sun, but years of being suffocated by the walls of the castle had begun to burn her wick low. She still flickered with life, but her flame had become weak throughout the years. Zarina was ashamed for letting her friend shoulder the weight of court life. She had no problem accepting the expectations placed on her, but she had failed to see the toll that court life had on those closest to her.

“Do you miss home?” Her hand shot out to snatch the yarn out of her friend’s hand, forcing her to pay attention to the question. A soft sigh escaped Merrill’s lips and she bounced her eyes around the room, unable to let them fall on the copper-haired princess. Her eyes glazed over, and Zarina knew that her spirit had fled back to the forest, back to the familiar clamor of the clan, back to the sanctity of sleeping between the roots of the huge oak trees. “I…” The syllable came out broken and unsure of what was to follow. Merrill ran her hand through the shortness of her hair, an anxious habit that she had practiced since she was a youngling.

“I do too.” Zarina offered, reaching out to clasp her friend’s hand. The two shared a moment of understanding as silence settled around them like flecks of dust. Perhaps fate would take them back home, back to where the earth would smell richer and the water ran freely. Fate had a funny way of guiding people to what they truly wanted. At least, that’s what Zarina had come to believe.

“I’m sorry for dragging you through this mess. You have been so kind to me throughout all these years.” Their eyes finally settled on each other, both heavy with remembrance and tears. A weary smile spread across her friend’s face, one that told of the exhaustion and confusion that Merrill had faced, but also alluded to the strength that she had discovered in herself along the way. A dainty hand came to rest on Zarina’s cheek, wiping a heavy tear that had escaped from her golden flecked eyes.

 “Your mother would not have sent me had I not asked. It has been a journey, but I’ve been able to share it with my best friend.”

* * *

 

The duo had gathered their supplies and set up their looms on the balcony that stretched out from Zarina’s bedroom. The midday sun hung lazily above them, warming the brick that covered the balcony, a welcome feeling on the bareness of Zarina’s feet. The pair began interlacing their chosen yarns, working slowly, quietly, on their patterns. Zarina’s hands formed comfortably around the shed stick as she moved it between each row of yarn, a movement that sprouted from the deep earth of her memory then began to bloom organically. She moved solely relying on muscle memory, similar to how she worked with a bow. A taunt string, the subtle movement of fingers, a preferred outcome.

Zarina’s mind wandered to the sounds that whispered softly from below them, shyly hiding in the bushes of the garden. Whispers barely audible over the bubbling fountain floated up to the balcony, the secrets found themselves entangled in the princess’ weaving. No matter what task she worked on, no matter where she placed herself in the castle, she found herself unable to cut ties from the poison of the court. It stained her gowns, tainted her food, bled from her pores. It was moments such as these that she found solace. She could escape the cloud of expectations to find peace in her small corner of the castle, although aspects of royal life still found a way to bleed into her lungs. With fingers humming from their work, she retreated momentarily from the loom to secure the curls of her hair in a poorly constructed knot at the top of her head.

“Do you love him?”

The words settled quietly in the air that they almost lost themselves in the dull clamor from below. Zarina faltered, fingers caught in the mess that was her curls, her eyes fell to her friend who had failed to falter from her work. The word sounded foreign, like a rune that had yet to be translated. She mulled it over on her tongue, feeling how the syllable moved her tongue in a new and intriguing way. _Love_. She hadn’t thought of putting the word to a feeling since she was betrothed to Sebastian, for the longest time the word held no importance, it just was. Had that changed? Did the words that Solas construct start to inflate the word with meaning once more?

“What do you mean, ma falon?” Her orbs searched her friend for a break in the mask of seriousness she wore.

“Oh, _ma falon_ ,” Merrill taunted her with the phrase, “Do not act so innocent. No one is around, you can tell me plainly. Do you love him?” She pressed once more.

Zarina fell silent once again, running her fingers through her locks until she secured the bun with a ribbon. Her hands fell to her side, no longer an object of prolongment. Her head tilted as she looked over the soft features of her friend, the angle of her cheeks and the roundness of her jaw. She could never hide her heart from her.

“I believe so.” The words tasted strange on her lips, numbing her tongue. Perhaps with time they would drip from her lips like honey, staining her tongue with joy and eagerness.

“Believe?” Merrill repeated the strangeness back to her as if trying to decide if Zarina was finally being truthful. Her eyes fell back to the business of her hands, pulling taunt string over taunt string while she thought about what Zarina had said. It was rare for Merrill to pry at the matters of the heart, she often avoided deep conversations for fear of saying the wrong thing and making matters worse. Her curiosity in the matter intrigued Zarina, especially since Zarina’s heart was legally bound to her betrothed, therefore her feelings towards Solas could never be actualized.

“Do you love him like how you loved Elriel?” Merrill asked without missing a movement, her eyes failing to stray back to the red-headed princess.

Zarina’s breath caught in her lungs at the mention of her childhood lover whom she hadn’t thought of in ages. Theirs was a selfish love, both unsure of how to navigate each other’s hearts. Elriel’s father served as the right hand to the clan leader, Zarina’s father. The young elves were locked in constant competition with each other, both trying to prove their worth to the clan in hopes of securing their place among the leaders. It wasn’t until the idea of partnership was mentioned by their parents that the possibility of common ground between them was considered. Maybe the nudge from her father caused the young she-elf to notice how Elriel’s eyes shimmered like the ocean that she would dream of, how his lips always curled as if he were concealing a joke.

She had convinced herself that she could find comfort in the arms that would wrap themselves loosely around her, in lips that would cautiously find hers yet failed to linger for very long. They spoke little, as he had little to say, and Zarina decided that he didn’t have to be a man of many words. Despite this, she couldn’t help but ache with loneliness even when he was near. His hand never searched for hers for it was too busy pulling himself into the status that he desired within the clan. Perhaps it was a blessing from the Gods when her sister ran away, for the demand of another half to the whole of royalty needed to be filled and she was the only candidate. There was something positive that came out of her betrothal, it saved her from a love that sprung from winter to one that was in the midst of a fruitful spring. Although the season that flourished within her was forbidden, she allowed herself to admire the blooms that sprouted from the decay of a past love.

“No, I don’t love him the same way that I loved Elriel.” The words finally escaped her lips as she pulled herself back into the moment, brushing off the dust from her consciousness that was left behind by her rememberance.

“Good, that was a love that was rooted in poisonous earth.” Her friends’ dark eyes were upon her now, searching the bareness of Zarina’s face. A smile fell across her face as she lingered over the vast expansion of brow that she had accidentally bestowed upon Zarina when they were younger.

“Why all the sudden concern?” Zarina’s golden eyes fell back to the task at hand.

“Is it wrong for me to fret over my friend?” Merrill clucked her tongue in a chiding manner before a mischievous grin overtook her face. “Besides, you know how enthralled I am with forbidden romance.”

The dull roar of gossip that had drifted up to them had begun to die off slowly, stifled by the sun that hung heavy from above them. The burning god beat mercilessly upon the pair, although Zarina welcomed the warmth by throwing the shawl from around her to expose her freckled shoulders. She could never understand how the shemlens could defy the sun by not nestling themselves in the warmth that it so selflessly provided. They were worried of the potential markings on their skin that the being would create, for the shems found beauty in unmarkedness. The elves celebrated each mark upon their body or each fold in their skin because they believed they were signs of a life well lived.

Zarina wore her freckles proudly, cherishing each one that the sun created. They reminded her of summers from her childhood, of games played in the branches of grand oaks, and of warm summer nights that were spent stargazing. Each mark upon her body declared her story, and she insisted that each story receive their proper acknowledgement. The sun beckoned more memories from her skin as the pair sat in silence while they busied themselves with their craft. Surely Josephine would return this evening, still fuming but more reserved, and would allow Zarina to finally set foot outside the confines of her room. Zarina feared that she was meeting the fate of princesses in shemlen’s storybooks: pretty little birds that were locked in gilded cages until they learned how to sing the notes their master commanded of them.

_I’ll be damned if they expect me to sing their horrible tunes_. The thought rested bitterly on the back of her tongue, an unspoken promise to herself.

A rustling noise coming from the railing of her balcony disturbed the silence that had accumulated between the pair. Her eyes shot to the approach of a small blackbird, wings wavering under the heat, claws barely able to clutch the railing to safely land itself. The bird seemed to shrink from under the weight of the heat, and slowly moved itself along the railing in search of shade.

“Oh Merrill, look at the poor thing.” Her friend turned to face the frail animal, and a sigh of concern escaped her. She reached out an extended hand to the bird, who rustled its feathers in surprise. A short beak pecked curiously at Merrill’s fingertips, and when the elf did not flinch the bird decided that the expanse of her palm was no more dangerous than the wooden railing of the balcony. Retracting her palm so that the bird rested against her chest, Merrill moved to the sparse shade that the overhanging provided.

“I’m sure the little thing is thirsty.” Zarina called as she moved across the room to fill a shallow dish with water. Returning to her friend, she found that Merrill had nestled the bird between two pillars of the railing that sheltered the creature from the sun. Zarina placed the dish near the resting bird, crouching down to examine the small animal. Its feathers had begun to molt, and the process along with the heat had caused the bird to drain its energy, although its blackberry eyes were bright and attentive to those that were taking care of it.

“It will probably rest here for a couple of days, we should find some scraps of cloth so that it can build a nest if need be.” Merrill nodded at her friend’s suggestions, and the pair turned towards the room only to face the tall frame of a man.

“How charitable my betrothed is.” Zarina’s heart shriveled at the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma falon- My friend


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The yawning sun awakens  
> Stretches across the sky,  
> Announcing another morning  
> That is not shared with you.

She felt ashamed that her body naturally grimaced from the sound of her betrothed’s voice, perhaps she had just found comfort in the lonely days that were suspended in silence that she feared this disruption would throw her back into the chaos of court. Her hands buried themselves in the sleek fabric of her dress, tensely turning the fabric into small knots while her mind raced to gather its thoughts. Today he seemed to present himself in an unassuming air, his stance was more relaxed, hair curled gently around his cheekbones rather than strategically combed to reveal his strong features. His jaw twitched, a habit that had caught Zarina’s eye that seemed to flare up in situations where he felt uneasy.

_You and me both, love_. Her face defaulted to a court approved smile, but she knew the action didn’t reflect in her eyes, something that he would have caught. She moved to stand, hands flattened the front of her dress as she forced herself to lace together something, anything, to push them past the uncomfortable air that stifled them.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? I mean, I suppose the heat may be a bit unbearable for some but I think-“ A nudge to the ribs caused Zarina to falter over her words. She was rambling, and Merrill made sure that she took note with a well-placed elbow that would hopefully redirect the encounter. Sebastian’s kind eyes settled on her as he stepped from inside the room to the light of the balcony, the sun toyed with the vast colors of blue and silver that floated in his eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the faint shadow of a beard had begun to appear at the curve of his jaw. Odd for a prince, who was expected to keep his face bare, but she didn’t mind the unkempt look.

“I was going to escort you around the garden, if you wished to share your time with me,” He paused, eyes cut across the room before he dropped his voice to a whisper, “I figured you were done serving your time in Josephine’s jail.” He winked at the princess, who offered a surprised smirk in return. Sebastian’s once reserved demeanor had seemed to melt away from the last time they had met, he now seemed more prone to expose his vulnerable spots. Perhaps it was one last cry for intimacy before they buried their heads in plans for the wedding.

The glint of Zarina’s golden eyes passed over him, before a soft smile painted itself across her cheeks. No matter what intentions may lay under the surface of his offering, Zarina craved engagement in ways that existed outside of the stuffy walls of her room. The weight of her betrothed’s gaze fell heavy across her cheeks as she felt warmth rush across the bridge of her nose.

“I would love that.” The phrase may have been the most genuine thing she had ever said to him. Maybe this change would make room for statements not tainted by courtly expectations. The prince offered the crook of his arm which Zarina accepted without hesitation, the maroon cotton tunic felt soft under her fingertips, drowning her in the nostalgia of a life she once lived. An excited squeal followed them out the door, poorly concealed by Merrill as she peered around the corner until the pair finally dipped into the sunlit courtyard.  

The sun had just tipped itself adjacent to the middle of the sky, signaling its steady fall into the muted colors of the night. The air hung heavy around them, beads of sweat formed quickly at the curve of Zarina’s spine but she welcomed the unbearableness of it all. Although her clothes had begun to rub at parts of her flesh in irritating ways and sweat beaded itself across her brow she found solace in rolling fields around them and the air that walls had failed to restrict. Buzzes of lazy insects paired with the bubbles of the fountain were the only things that busied themselves in the courtyard, the benches usually packed with women fanning themselves and men discussing business were free, ushered out by the heat. Sebastian led her around the empty gardens, matching the slowed pace of the princess, allowing her to run her fingertips over wilting flower petals.

The silence that floated between the two rested comfortably on Zarina’s shoulders, something that seemed new and strange to her. Silence often made the elf uncomfortable, as if the lack of conversation choked unusual comments from her throat, which would in turn make the interaction even more uncomfortable. She blamed her upbringing, how her siblings constant chatter would ring off the branches of the large fir trees, her father’s music often dulled by the disagreements that would arise between the younger ones. For most of her life, silence never existed outside of the cradling comfort of slumber. Here in the garden with Sebastian seemed different, as if she were reconnecting with a lost friend.

Zarina’s clan were always weary of the humans, and these fears were often solidified by the tales of mistreatment that city elves often faced. She recalled how her father would share stories of decaying bodies on the streets and families left with no food or shelter in an effort to deter his children from seeking out life among the humans. Zarina couldn’t imagine why her siblings would want to leave the endless freedom of the forest, even her oldest sister refused the offer of expected luxury that came with the promise of royalty. Sometimes Zarina wondered how her father could have sacrificed his own daughter to the wolves of court, even after it cost him his oldest.

“My love?” Sebastian’s voice rippled her memory, bringing her back to the wilting garden. Her chin tilted towards him, searching his eyes that pressed for answers as to what consumed her. A soft smile covered what her face almost gave away as she nodded to a rose bush.

“We didn’t have flowers like this where I was growing up. I remember a travelling merchant passed by our encampment once, his bag overflowing with flowers that I had never seen. My  father-“ Her voice cracked, and she cursed herself for showing weakness to a shem. “He bought all of my siblings a rose. I kept mine pressed in my diary.” She couldn’t will herself to return her gaze to Sebastian, the rosebush burned itself into her retinas, riding the memories as they painfully consumed her.

Sebastian’s hand cupped under her chin, gently pulling her so that they faced each other. His eyes radiated understanding and sorrow, something that Zarina had yet to encounter from the stone-faced shems. The sun had nestled itself in his unkempt locks, shifts of gold tucked themselves among the darker strands and his ice blue eyes searched hers. “Keeping you from your family was never my intention.” His voice rang with sincerity, but Zarina’s heart dripped with anger and resentment.

“Then why have I not been allowed to see them? Why am I only allowed letters?” She tried to contain her emotion in whispers so that her words could not be heard by curious ears.

“I was under immense pressure when you first arrived, especially when you ran off. I was afraid that you wouldn’t return.” He moved to place his hands on Zarina’s shoulders, but the princess shrunk from his touch. “I understand that my actions aren’t viable excuses. I understand that you’re-“

“A person?” Zarina’s sharpness cut him off, causing Sebastian to drop his gaze from the elf. “My ears may have a point to them but that doesn’t rid me of my feelings, doesn’t rid my people of their rights.” Her heart beat loudly against her chest as her anger stained her cheeks. She refused to drop her eyes in shame from being so vocal about her anger. She needed him to feel uncomfortable, needed him to understand the pressure that swallowed her, that ripped at her heart. She knew that court was a delicate dance between demands and compromises, but her people had already compromised so much.

“I am sorry. Beyond words. I will never truly understand the hurt you feel, but I want to share the burden.” His eyes met hers once more as he searched her face for a break in the armor she had constructed. His fingers reached towards her cheek, proceeding after noting that Zarina didn’t shy from his touch as she had done before. His thumb caressed the fullness of her cheek, sweeping across the dusting of freckles and flowed over the bareness of her brow. A pit of concerned settled in Zarina’s belly, she wanted to pull from his touch for fear of his thoughts, but the defiance in her settled her feet firmly in their place.

She understood that he faced pressures from the court, knew that an elven princess was already taboo, yet it was hard to forgive his lack of empathy towards her needs and her people. Zarina suspected that once the crown rested on her head that the powers she held would be succumbed to that of the shem man that she were to marry. It was a reality that she continuously pushed to the back of her brain, yet it still kept her up at night. She knew if she were to keep her head above water after her marriage, she would have to make a stand now and pray that her parents fight for her while they finalized the marriage contract. Until then, she hoped being emotionally vulnerable to the man she were to wed would create common ground between them.

“I admire you,” His breath was upon her cheek, she could swear that she could hear his heart flutter against his chest. “The passion you have for your people in unmatched. Royalty often forget that it is they who serve the people, not the people who serve their whims. I swear this to you now, Zarina Lavellan, your people deserve their freedom and their rights. Our marriage will catalyst a change for your people, and I will help you champion that fight.” His fingertips fell from the smoothness of her brow to the fullness of her lips as he traced the outline of her bottom lip. Zarina’s breath caught in her throat at the fluidity of his touch and how his gaze had failed to break from hers. After a moment suspended in blissful silence, his hand dropped to cup hers in his, his chin tilted as he continued to examine her before a smile interrupted his face of calm.

“I have something for you.” A childish twinkle consumed his eyes as he motioned for Zarina to follow him across the garden maze.

 

* * *

 

The pair severed themselves from the main pathway that wound adjacent to the main gardens, east of the bubbling fountain. Sebastian pulled her towards the training grounds, which were often vacated since Orlais had found itself in a rare state of peace. With the sun now tipping just below the trees, strange shadows curved themselves across the yard, projected by the worn training dummies. The place sent shivers down Zarina’s spine, causing her muscles to tense protectively. _Why would he bring me here, the sun is setting and we should be preparing for dinner_. Panicked thoughts of regicide flashed through her mind as Sebastian positioned her yards in front of a training dummy.

“Wait here.” He whispered, his footsteps trailed, yet Zarina was able to track him by the sound of leaves crunching under his heel. The noise faded, until the elven woman was left alone with her thoughts. She cursed herself for leaving her dagger under her pillow instead of strapping it to her thigh as she had done for years. Josephine’s punishment of isolation had made her soft, unprepared, susceptible to an attack. The crunching of leaves sounded in the distance, quickly approaching the lone princess in the training field. Sebastian’s labored breath signaled that he had been running, his solemn footsteps alerted Zarina that he was alone.

“Okay, Princess, now close your eyes.” He was just a step behind her, his voice causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. “Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes.” She lied, eyes pressing to her peripheral in an effort to catch the first glimpse of movement. A shuffling of footsteps, a swoosh of movement, and a wrapped bundle was presented to her. Tentative fingers reached out to accept the package as she unwound the leather protecting the insides. The wrappings gave way to the curve of slender wood, stained a color that matched the depth of the earth.

“My bow.” The words escaped very much a question and very much a statement. The curve fell naturally against the palm of her hand, the bow seemed to vibrate from the memories of past kills. The string felt taunt against her fingers, cutting into the fleshy pads, not as worn as she remembered. “The string, is it…?”

“Replaced. I strung it by hand last night so that it would be fresh for you.” Zarina’s chin jutted towards the human, brow furrowed in confusion as she faced the tall prince who held a large war bow in his right fist, toying with the string with the other. She had heard legends, whispers from behind ornate fans, that the Vael’s were skilled marksmen. Their craft was sought after by the queen, who regarded them as respected war advisors and would often seek their council above other veterans. Talk of the splendor of the Vael marksmanship was buried with Sebastian’s father, therefore Zarina has assumed that Sebastian had retired the craft.

“Why are you returning this to me?” Zarina ran her fingers over the body of the bow, recalling how lightweight the weapon was, she traced the small Dalish etching on the grip.

“A peace offering, a hope for a better future.” Sebastian tilted his head as his eyes fell over the elf. He offered a quiver of arrows to the princess and nodded his head towards the tattered dummies. “I know the sun is setting, but would you like to get a couple practice shots in?”

Zarina shouldered the quiver, noting that Sebastian had equipped his own. She notched an arrow, pulled the string past the point of her eye, just as her father had taught her. The red targets on the training targets were shredded and faded, Zarina could just make out the point that signaled the heart. She exhaled, released, felt the bow vibrate at the arrow cleared the wood and soared through the air. _Thud_. The arrow planted itself just right of the target. A fatal shot, although it wouldn’t offer a quick death to the recipient. A scowl inked across Zarina’s face at how her skill had already begun to fade. _Court life is making me weak_.

A sharp whiz through the air caused the tip of Zarina’s ears to tingle, and a dull thud broke her from her thoughts. Sebastian sucked through his teeth, and the elf noted a slight smile tickled at the corner of his mouth as his bow dropped to his side. His arrow planted itself in the middle of the target, still rocking from the force of his shot. Zarina’s eyes narrowed as she strung a second arrow and released it in one fluid motion. The arrows zipped through the air, splintered through Sebastian’s bow, and buried itself in the target. Zarina exhaled with a smile as she turned to her betrothed whose jaw had fallen adjacent. His raised eyebrow alluded that he was impressed, and he turned to Zarina with a smirk.

“I’m relieved to see that you are as equally competitive. Of course, feeble people do not survive long in court.” He surveyed the target with a tilted head before retrieving the arrows. Zarina watched him curiously, although she had not seen him practice his marksmanship he still seemed in sync with his craft.

“By your form it seems as if you’ve been practicing recently.” She leaned against the concrete wall that enclosed the space in, bow still clutched in her fist.

“Yes, of course. Although I usually practice under the cover of nightfall. People always expect the worst when they see that the training grounds are being utilized. Which makes it difficult as a ruler,” He freed the final arrow from the target, stowing it away in his quiver before turning to face the elf. “How am I to condition my troops for the Queen’s army if the sight of practice fighting causes mass hysteria?” He balanced himself against the wall next to Zarina as he worked at the buckles of his glove. Zarina surveyed the training grounds, how the sparring ring was overrun by weeds and the targets falling apart. She chewed thoughtfully at the inside of her cheek, intrigued, but not surprised, at the flightiness of nobles.

“Hold a council, inform the people of the benefits of conditioning your guardsmen. I wouldn’t proceed with training until the people were informed.” She shifted so that Sebastian was in her view, his brow wrinkled as he thought the suggestion over.

“And if they decline?” He refuted.

“Safety doesn’t really seem to be an option, does it? You are responsible for keeping these people alive. If anything, move the training grounds next to the stables so that they aren’t as visible. Maybe that will retain some peace.” Sebastian nodded along as he processed her offer, rubbing his earlobe between two fingers thoughtfully. “Being a prince brings about tough decisions that many won’t agree with. You have to choose the option that benefit your people the most.”

An understanding smile flooded Sebastian’s face as he moved to face Zarina, balancing himself on one elbow. The sky around them began to paint itself with richer colors of purple and red, signaling the extinguishing of the bright orb that ruled the sky. Speckles of distance stars twinkled down at the pair, Zarina liked to imagine that they signaled a turning point, an establishment of mutual understanding. “I never expected you to be involved in the politics of the land, but it is comforting to see that you seek to be engaged and involved,” His eyes dropped as he nervously wrung his hands. “I appreciate your advice, and I will heed it. Thank you for painting these issues clearer for me.”

Zarina watched him, watched how the surrendering sun cast shadows into the hollows of his cheek, emphasized the exhaustion that settled across his face, how his courtly mask broke down in her presence. Here, in front of her, he was just a man. The mask he donned for the people of court could not withstand her honesty, they were finally able to regard each other as people instead of their royally betrothed. “My father would be proud that you were my betrothed.” The statement left his lips a little louder than a whisper, his bright eyes were upon her now.

The darkness concealed the red that rushed to the freckles of Zarina’s cheek, she hoped, anyway. A second suspended in the air allowed the phrase to float to the heavens, to live among the stars that promised new beginnings, just as Zarina had suspected. Sebastian moved a stray curled lock behind the point of her ear, stroking her cheek tenderly before running his thumb down the length of her throat. Zarina’s eyes closed as she followed the rhythm of his touch, down her throat, across her collarbones, along her jaw, across her lips, where they lingered for a second. She noted that his breathing had matched her own, slow, as if afraid the moment would escape them. His scent of leather and vanilla relaxed her muscles as she leaned into him, allowing herself to fall over the edge into his offerings.

“May I?” He whispered, thumb trembling over her lips. She caught the excitement and caution battle in his blue orbs, the thin line his lips had formed, perhaps forbidding him from saying more. Her hand moved to encircle his as she planted a kiss on the pad of his thumb before moving his hand to her cheek. “You may.” She offered.

The air around them ignited, fizzed like sparklers, evaporated into the night sky. This was the moment that Zarina had dreaded most, the moment she thought she would never fully embrace. Yet, here she was, hands in his locks, dancing with the taste of honey that clung to his lips as he softly kissed her. He wasn’t greedy in his maneuvering, yet he seemed to mourn as he pulled away. Zarina bit her bottom lip to try and conceal the bubbles of laughter that formed in her stomach. She finally felt safe in a foreign land, in the arms of a person she no longer considered a stranger.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once the eternal night calls my name,  
> And my fingertips begin to chill  
> And my bones start to shake  
> From the mortality that has cursed me  
> Know that my heart will beat your name  
> And my soul will search for you  
> Even as the earth overcomes me.

The dining room ran the length of the castle to accommodate for lavish dinners where splendor and intriguing gossip were expected to parallel the sublime food. The wall covered with tall windows were open, allowing the cool autumn breeze to twist itself around the floor length curtains. The other wall, decked in jeweled mirrors, reflected the candle lit room back to its inhabitants. Zarina noted that her cheeks were still flushed despite the dimly lit quarters. Sebastian and the princess had arrived late to dinner, their shared whispers and suppressed giggles raised eyebrows from those who attended.

Only one oaken table occupied the great length of the space, causing conversations among the table to echo off the mosaicked ceiling and escape through the open windows. Sebastian led the elven princess to her place at the head of the table, pulled the chair out for her, and ushered her into the seat. With a kiss placed on the bareness of her brow, Sebastian made his way to his seat at the opposite end of the table. Merrill and Dorian were seated to her left and right, adorned in silks the color of deep wine. Dorian sipped eagerly at the dark liquid that swirled in his glass, eyes narrowed at the princess over the rim of his drink.

“I heard that you and Sebastian finally exchanged more than just words in the garden.” He twirled his mustache between two fingers, mulling over the news before proceeding with a whisper. “Was he a fretful kisser?”

Zarina made sure to show no outward emotion to the question, although her jaw was close to coming unhinged at his knowledge of their shared moment. “You sneak, how could you possibly know?” She followed the question with a sip from her glass, a quick sweep of her eyes across the table and she assumed that no one had listened in on their conversation. She hoped the chatter that echoed from other conversations would help deter wandering ears from Dorian’s prying.

“We’ve been friends for so many years,” He clutched at the emerald that hung from his neck, feigning heartache. “And you still have yet to understand that I see and hear everything?” He clucked his tongue as he looked at her with a suspicious smile that caused her to roll her eyes. Merrill snickered at the drama of it all and reached for another roll from the basket. Dorian promptly smacked her fingers before they were able to clutch her prize. “Merrill, you’ve already had three rolls, leave some for the rest of us.” He chided her, pulling the basket closer to him.

Merrill’s brow furrowed as she glared across the table at the smirking man. “I’ve been ravenous all day! You try keeping the Princess company after she’s been locked in her room for days. It’s mind-numbing work.” Her rebuttal was met by _tsk tsk tsks_ from Dorian. Zarina shook her head, it’s wasn’t uncommon for her to be caught in the middle of their sibling-like arguments. The pair were almost so similar that they found it hard to agree on much of anything. Both suffered from terrible impulse control that it drove each other. Of course, the things they succumbed to varied greatly: Merrill’s weakness was baked goods and wildflowers, while Dorian’s was the amount of jewelry he donned on his person and gossip whispered into ears.

Zarina’s eyes drew down the length of the table. Josephine busied herself with buttering a roll, she had yet to make eye contact with Zarina although the princess felt the weight of her gaze when she wasn’t looking. The Antivan was known for holding grudges, and Zarina assumed that it was an acquired court trait. It was easier to navigate the game when one is constantly weary of individuals. Flemeth and Morrigan were seated across from Josephine, scowling over the wine. The two rarely talked when present at meals, which was also a rarity, but with the scene that Zarina had caused it would be safe to assume that they were present in case of a social fallout caused by the princesses rash actions. At the end of the table, seated next to Sebastian, Solas twirled the neck of his glass between two fingers, watching the liquid as it swirled around the brim.

The elf had donned himself in a robe that was dyed the color of an eternal night. The sleeves ended at his knuckles, which he had stacked with a variety of stones embedded in silverite. His collarbones peaked out from the front of the robe, and golden hoops had found their home around the perimeter of his pointed ears. He looked enchanting. Zarina’s orbs falter over him for longer than she knew was permitted, but she couldn’t shake the sight of his bare chest and the daring jewelry that suited him. He seemed disinterested in the conversation being had between Sebastian and Alistair, who was to stand guard for the evening but found himself enthralled in the discussion he was having with the prince.

“And then, the baker dropped his trousers as if his knickers somehow would have resolved the dispute!” The guard and the prince erupted into a fit of laughter that reverberated off the walls. Solas’ eyes passed over the two, a disapproving eyebrow raised, before his gaze fell down the table and settled on the princess. A sense of knowing flitted across his eyes, as if he had felt her eyes upon him the whole time, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Zarina quickly dropped her eyes, blushing under the heat of his gaze. Merrill kicked her under the table. Had she noticed the exchange as well?

A bell erupted from the kitchen, announcing that dinner was being served. Zarina moved to place the cotton napkin across her lap, still feeling the tutor’s eyes upon her. The chef was trailed out of the kitchen by servants, each holding a silver tray decorated with an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and vegetables. The servants moved to place the side dishes on the table before the chef presented the main course. Zarina noticed with narrowed eyes that the point of the servant’s ears mirrored hers, she chew at the inside of her cheek to prevent her words of frustration from spilling out of her mouth. _Yet another thing to address with Sebastian_.

Zarina’s great wolf danced around the petite chef, who now held the platter of food above her head. Elgar’s pink tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as his nose twitched at the smell of food. Zarina knew that her wolf had already sized the chef up, knew that he would be able to topple the woman with one pounce, and that she already watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye. A low whistle escaped Zarina’s lips, and Elgar’s ears perked at her summoning. A low rumble of disapproval reverberated in the wolf’s throat before he trotted to her side. It was a shame that some people didn’t believe that animals were capable of human emotion, as the look of annoyance that showed in Elgar’s face was undeniable.

Realizing she was safe from the jowl-licking animal, the chef placed the silver platter in the middle of the table, revealing a plump turkey sitting proudly in the middle. The chef distributed the dish to each person at the table before everyone helped themselves to the sides. Zarina picked at the vegetables on her plate with disinterest as conversation swirled around her. She realized the precarious situation she was entangled in, although nothing in court is ever safe from the reach of greedy nobles. _Perhaps_ , she thought, _it would be easier if I didn’t care for Sebastian_. But she would be lying if she didn’t admit that today was wonderful, and that the taste of him still lingered on her lips. Weight shifted in her lap as Elgar poked his head from under the table, bright eyes begged her for scraps. She caved, sneaking a piece of the juicy turkey to the wolf whose tail thudded loudly against the tile floors.

Josephine clears her throat, and the hall falls silent. “I have news from Orlais, and other matters that I would like to address.” Her dark eyes fall down the table and land on Sebastian, who dips his chin.

“It seems as if trouble is rattling Orlais once more,” She pauses, her lips form a thing line as she thinks, “There has been a threat on Queen Celene’s life.”

Morrigan takes a sip from her glass before countering, “Aren’t threats on a queen’s life common practice? How serious are these claims?”

“Crates of unmarked weapons have been found. There was an attempt at poisoning, but a slave took the first sip.” Josephine pauses as the room erupts with hushed whispers, a raised hand silences them. “Prince Sebastian, Celene is requesting the presence of the surrounding nobility to aide in flushing out the rebellion.”

Sebastian nods, mulling the information over in his head as he chews. He locks eyes with Zarina from across the table. “Very well. Zarina shall attend with me so that she may become accustomed to the palace and the people that inhabit it.”

“My prince, I’m afraid that I wouldn’t recommend that.” Josephine interjected before Sebastian’s offer settled around them.

“If the issue is safety then Alistair will escort us along with my guards.”

“I’m afraid that safety isn’t the issue,” Josephine’s eyes drift to Zarina. “Due to the fact that Zarina isn’t officially an Orlesian noble, she may not receive the welcome that you think she will. That may also influence the business that you are to attend to, Prince Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed as if he were calculating the validity of her statement. Zarina also wondered how much of it was rooted in the frustration that still simmered in the pit of Josephine’s heart. “I won’t attend if Zarina isn’t welcome.” The offer teetered on the edge of a threat. Snickers erupted between Morrigan and Flemeth.

“Prince Sebastian, as your advisor I must insist. Celene will seek Zarina in due time. Bringing someone to court who has not been widely accepted cause panic in light of the recent events.”

Zarina noticed the clouds forming across Sebastian’s face as he digested the information. She knew the risk for an uprising among the nobles was a possibility, especially with the threat on Celene’s life. A look of defeat came across his eyes and she knew that he couldn’t think of a way around the matter. Zarina was thankful that he put forth the effort to include her.

“Do not fret, my love. I’ll keep the castle while you meet with Celene. Besides, I should be focusing on my studies.” Zarina spoke before Sebastian had the chance to cave to Josephine’s insistence.  She refused to allow her gaze to waver to Solas at the mention of her studies, but she could feel his eyes upon her.

“Very well. I will be sure to inform you and Josephine of what I learn on my trip.”

* * *

 

The flames of the fire licked up the back of the fireplace, casting long eerie shadows across the room. Merrill twisted braids in Zarina’s fiery locks as a content Elgar stretched his weight across the princess’ legs. Across the room, Dorian busied himself with a book, his unusually bare fingers in his mouth as he worked at his nailbeds with his teeth. A bad habit that he had failed to kick. The three of them had made their way back to Zarina’s quarters, trailed by the wolf whose belly was swollen with food he had pillaged from people’s plates. Josephine had stopped the group as they turned to walk down the hall that lead to Zarina’s room. The Antivan’s jaw was set, but her eyes seemed soft.

“Princess, may I have a word with you?” Zarina nodded for the rest of the group to continue to her quarters.

“I have a few words I would like to say, as well.” Zarina’s hands folded behind her back. She often fiddled with her fingers when nerves overcame her. Josephine had explained that some may see that as a sign of weakness and pushed harder against the princess in an effort to break her composure. “It is okay to be weak,” Josephine had said. “But in your weakness you must also show unyielding strength.”

The Antivan sighed and leaned against the wall. A silken dress the color of wisteria hugged her curves. Her bare shoulders were donned with dainty gold chains that wrapped around her chest and ended in a decorative gem that hung at the base of her throat. She pushed a loose curl behind her ear before looking into Zarina’s eyes.

“In regards to keeping you to your room I-“

“Josie, you don’t have to explain. I know what I did was out of line, for many reasons.” Zarina reached out and held Josephine’s petite hand in hers. “I know that you are trying to protect me, and that I don’t often make your job easy.”

Josephine snorted, a smile blossomed across her face. “You are as hotheaded as they come, princess.”

“I’m sorry, my friend. The weight of responsibility seemed too heavy for me to carry, I just had to get away.” She squeezed Josephine’s hand tightly, looked at her earnestly.

Josephine pulled the elf into an embrace. “I’m terrified of losing you to the vultures of court. I just want you to…” Her explanation caught in her throat.

“I know, Josie.”

Her mouth wouldn’t form words of reassurance, her tongue was numb to the fact that she was also worried on how to navigate courtly life. A dagger over Celene’s head also meant that an arrow was notched for Zarina and Sebastian for they were next in line to the throne. The realization had bloomed in her, when her lips were locked to his, that their sands of time flowed more quickly than it did for others. Mortality wasn’t something she often considered, it was hard to think of the coldness of the earth when the sun warmed the leaves and the creek babbled promises of a fruitful spring. An eternal youth bloomed in the forests that she grew up in, but the cold breath of the long night breathed down her neck as she walked the corridors of the castle.

The room became stifling, unbearable. Zarina jolted from between Merrill’s knees, pulling unfinished braids from between her working fingers. Elgar whined, sensing the unease that pulsed through her veins.

“Zarina?” Merrill called after the red-haired princess as she made her way to the balcony.

“I just need some air.” She was somehow able to choke out an excuse.

“I’m sure she was just remembering the feeling of sweet Sebastian’s lips.” Dorian jested.

The cold air rushed over Zarina as she leaned over the balcony, wind rushing up her nose and tugging at the braids in her hair. Strange, to consider ones mortality as such a fickle thing. For all of her life she never considered the weight that each day held, how precious each breath was. Now she felt as if she were bargaining with fate, and each breath she drew filled her lungs past the point of capacity. Why should her days be numbered simply because a crown may grace her head? Her knuckles were white as she gripped the railing, fighting back the tears that burned at the corner of her eyes as they wandered to the corner of the balcony. The nest that Merrill had built was illuminated by the crescent moon, empty. 

_At least some of us are able to escape our fate._  


End file.
